


Sugar & Spice

by heartsdesire456



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Fluff, M/M, Marriage, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsdesire456/pseuds/heartsdesire456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Patrick Stump met Pete Wentz, he would have never imagined that just over two years later he would be the owner of Sugar & Spice, his very own, brand new, bakery. The new husband of an eccentric millionaire, Patrick's first few months owning a bakery are definitely not what he expected. Amid being the latest local scandal and dealing with a neurotic husband, Patrick is faced with the struggles of running a work environment full of the craziest employees he had ever met, as well as planning for two major events for the shop to deal with. With mounting pressure at the bakery, will Patrick overlook the slow unraveling of his husband's faith in their relationship, or will he be able to save their marriage before it's too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar & Spice

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic brought over for Valress. This was also a 2011 Bandom Big Bang fic.

Patrick smiled as he opened the door, heard the bell jingle, and was greeted by the sounds and smells of everybody already at work. “Good morning,” he said brightly as walked behind the counter, putting his coat on a hook as he grabbed his white apron.

“Well, someone got laid!” Patrick turned to glare at the boy who was smirking at him from where he was putting a new tray into the display.

“Hey,” he started, only to be interrupted as a cheerful face popped around the door heading back into the kitchen, nose covered in flour.

“Ooh, yep! Patrick’s never a morning person unless he got laid!” Patrick glowered and the man’s eyes widened. “Well you aren’t!”

Patrick snorted. “Fine, Brendon, it’s a good morning,” he admitted, grinning. “Spencer, have we got our shipment of the dark bars you needed?” he asked the one at the counter.

Spencer shook his head. “Nope! And I need it by this afternoon. The Neidermeyer order called specifically for that brand and that consistency crumbled on top of their molded roses.”

Brendon grumbled. “I was supposed to get the leftovers,” he said, and Patrick shot Spencer a look.

Spencer gave him innocent eyes. “What?! It’s dark, so there’s less sugar than any other candy he’d eat! Trust me, I have to drive his ass back to campus at the end of the day, I am not going to purposefully medicate him,” he defended. 

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Right, whatever,” he said, then moved on into the kitchen. “Brendon, don’t over sugar the éclairs just because you’re craving again. That last batch had to be tossed they were so sweet,” he said, and Brendon fluttered his eyelashes.

“It’s just my natural sweetness tainting the food,” he claimed and Patrick chuckled, heading through the kitchen without another word.

He smiled, looking around the kitchen at the works in progress all over the place. He walked back into the office and smiled when his cake designer looked up. “Someone’s late to work,” Gerard said, smudging something on the sketch he was working on.

Patrick smiled. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he said as he walked over to his desk, past Gerard’s table. “How’s the new design for the Carlson wedding?” he asked, and Gerard snorted.

“Great, only that was yesterday, Patrick,” he said, looking up with a crooked smirk. “So life as a newlywed going well?” he teased and Patrick flushed bright pink.

He coughed awkwardly, but shrugged with a small smirk. “No complaints.”

Gerard shook his head, smiling. “Lucky bastards,” he said, and Patrick smiled, looking down at his hand, thinking about how he had gotten to where he was.

Patrick had been a music student with a promising future in production not long ago. At nearly twenty-five, he’d been granted an internship at Wentz Records, working under the head producer there. Two days into his internship, the owner, Pete Wentz, had come walking into the studio, ruining their session. The producer had stepped out for a moment, leaving Patrick to simply monitor the band’s first recording of their new track, which they would tweak later. 

Patrick had never seen Pete Wentz before, only heard of him, so he had immediately started bitching at the man who had walked in, ruining their first run. He had looked so shocked that Patrick kept going, only to stop when the producer rushed back in and flung his hands over Patrick’s mouth, quickly and robustly apologizing for his behavior. As soon as Patrick heard him refer to the girl jeans wearing, eye liner-ed guy as ‘Mr. Wentz’, Patrick was almost certain he’d be fired.

Instead, however, he suddenly found Mr. Wentz showing up every day and sitting in on their sessions whenever he seemed to have free time. At first, Patrick felt he was being scrutinized for insulting the owner of the entire label, but a few weeks in, he was surprised to see Mr. Wentz waiting outside after work. He had pestered him about the most random and seemingly insignificant things all the way to the train station. 

The next day it happened again, and the next, and the next after that. Eventually, Patrick couldn’t help but tell the owner of the company that it was creepy and he really hoped there was a point to three weeks of semi-stalking. Much to his surprise, the result had been a shy kiss to the cheek and a wide-grinned ‘call me Pete’.

Patrick refused to date Pete for the entirety of his internship, but Pete never seemed to want to give up. Every day he would hang around the studio, worship everything Patrick did, and then follow him to the train station every evening with random chatter and completely obvious compliments. The last week of Patrick’s internship, he stopped Pete mid-compliment at the train station and asked why he wouldn’t give up. Pete had simply shrugged, tucked his hands into his hoodie pockets, smiled as shyly as Patrick had ever seen, and said the three words that started the change to everything in Patrick’s life.

Within only a few months of dating, Patrick had decided two things: Pete Wentz was the single most insufferable, infuriating, and frustrating human being Patrick had ever had the misfortune to meet… and Patrick was more in love with him than he had ever thought was possible. They had their ups and downs over the nearly two years they dated, about as many downs as ups, and when Patrick’s life was at its heaviest points, Pete was always there to either make everything alright or make everything a billion times worse.

The night of Patrick’s twenty-seventh birthday, Patrick’s world had crashed down around him. He had been denied by all of the studios he had applied after graduation over the few months and he had even stooped as far as turning to his old standby of ‘work at a cake shop’, having grown up in his grandmother’s shop, and been refused by every establishment he applied to. The night of his birthday, he finally stooped to asking Pete for help and influence at finding a job at _either_ choice of careers, only to be given a speech on favoritism and how wrong it was.

The fear, anger, and sadness Patrick had been suffering since graduation had twisted everything into the biggest fight they had ever had. Patrick had been hurt beyond anything Pete had done before. At his birthday party Pete had organized without his permission, he not only found himself surrounded by the friends he really didn’t want to see after Pete got him angry, he also found something he never expected.

He had rushed upstairs to his and Pete’s room, hoping to escape, and walked in to find Pete and one of his ex-‘friends’ standing in the middle of the room kissing. Patrick felt like that had been the final blow and his entire world was shattering around him. He hadn’t even bothered fighting, screaming, or even packing. He had simply left, ignored Pete rushing after him all the way to the street, and hailed a cab to his parent’s house.

After he had spent the whole night on his mom’s couch, refusing to say what was wrong, and then fighting to keep from crying himself to sleep, Patrick had calmed down enough to really understand what happened and accept that his boyfriend of two years… wasn’t his boyfriend anymore. For a week, Pete had called, came to try and see him until his mother threatened to call the police, and even sat outside threatening to not leave until Patrick would listen.

Patrick had held out until one night of cold weather, much later in the spring than he could remember it being before, Pete was still standing out there on the street, in the lingering snow, shivering and half frozen, but not leaving. Patrick kept going to the window and then ignoring Pete. However, at two in the morning, the news on the TV said it was still snowing and twenty degrees without the wind chill and, however much he wanted to hate him, Patrick couldn’t help but be worried for Pete.

He had put on his coat and boots, told his mom he was going to get rid of Pete. He had walked down to the street, intent on shouting at Pete, only to see the look of relief on Pete’s face as he rushed up to Patrick looking hopeful. He had told Pete to go home, but Pete had promised that, until Patrick listened to him, he wouldn’t leave, even if it meant his frozen body being found in the snow the next morning. In hopes of Pete leaving, Patrick let Pete say what he needed to say if he promised to leave when he was done.

_Pete’s cheeks were pink from the cold. “Patrick, please-“_

_Patrick shook his head, freezing already. “Pete, just say what you have to say and go,” he said weakly. “Please.”_

_Pete stepped towards him, but Patrick stepped back. Pete just nodded solemnly. “I know you won’t believe me,” he started and Patrick sighed, shaking his head. “Patrick, what you saw-“_

_“Pete, don’t even start-“_

_“He was drunk and thought I was his _girlfriend_ , Patrick!” he said desperately. “I know it looks fishy and I know you won’t believe it that easily, but if you would just- just give me the benefit of the doubt and listen to what I’m saying, I promise you, I’d never cheat on you,” he said desperately._

_Patrick sighed. “Pete… even if you are telling the truth, it’s been coming. You know it has,” he said sadly. “We just… we fight as much as we’re happy, Pete. We both know that this can’t last,” Patrick said rationally._

_Pete looked at him helplessly. Patrick wasn’t unused to Pete crying, but when he saw the tears welling in Pete’s eyes, he felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Please,” Pete gasped, biting his lip. “I love you, Patrick Stump,” he said, and Patrick cringed, feeling that familiar fluttering he had felt every single time Pete told him he loved him. “You’ve had such a rough time lately that- that I had it all planned out,” he said, shaking his head as a tear slipped from its place caught behind dark lashes. “Patrick, I- I was going to wait until after everybody had got to the house, and I was gonna wait for the party to be in full swing and- and,” he sniffled. “I was going to tell you that I had somewhere to take you, and- and I was going to show you what I got you and-“_

_Patrick felt his heart breaking all over again as he watched Pete breaking down. “Pete,” he whispered, and Pete shook his head._

_“No! Patrick, I had- I had this big plan, and you were supposed to be ridiculously happy, and it was supposed to already be the best birthday ever and then- and then,” Pete sniffled wetly, smiling a broken smile. “I was gonna- gonna take your hands,” he stepped up and tugged Patrick’s arms uncrossed, grabbing Patrick’s hands in his._

_Patrick gasped. “Shit, your hands are cold! Can you feel them?” he asked, and Pete shook his head, laughing wetly._

_“I was gonna do it there, at the surprise place, and I was gonna hold your hands and tell you that-that-“ He blinked, releasing even more tears. “I love you. I think I loved you the first time you called me a dickhead.” Patrick chuckled weakly, feeling his own emotions catch up to him. “And then I was going to explain that it was all a grand gesture! That- that it was a way to show you exactly how much I love you and how much I want you and I was gonna do this!” Patrick frowned as Pete all but fell to his knees, not even seeming fazed by the wet, snowy sidewalk under him. “And then- then this,” he reached in his hoodie pocket and pulled out a box. “And tell you I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he said weakly, opening it to hold it up to Patrick, who closed his eyes, feeling tears he didn’t want. He didn’t cry. He refused to cry. “I love you. I just… I need you, Patrick. I- I love you,” he said helplessly._

_Patrick sniffled, looking up at the sky, watching the condensation of his breath swirling into the air, mixing with the snowflakes that were falling. “God Pete,” he choked out, shaking his head. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, looking down at Pete, feeling weak._

_Pete sniffled. “Because I love you. I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted- I wanted you to remember that birthday forever and not because of something bad, but because everything was perfect. I imagined it all. I had it all planned. I would ask you to marry me, and you would be annoyed I got you a girls ring, but you’d secretly like it cause I know you and you only try to be all tough when you really have a total romantic side-“ Patrick sniffled, smiling wetly. “And you’d say yes and make my life amazing because I got the most perfect person ever made to agree to marry me and- and-“ Pete let out a weak sob. “And we’d grow old together and every day of my life would be perfect for the rest of ever because you were in it and you are perfect and I just- I had it _planned_ , Patrick, and please,” Pete cried. “Please say something, Patrick.” He sobbed weakly as he leaned forward, letting his forehead lean against Patrick’s middle as he arms encircled Patrick’s hips and thighs. “Please,” he begged, crying into Patrick’s coat as his blunt nails scrabbled at the fabric of Patrick’s pants leg._

_Patrick felt something in him snap. “Pete, Pete get up,” he said, tugging him up. Pete stood up slowly, and Patrick shook his head. “Pete, you better not be lying about the drunken guy,” he said, and Pete shook his head._

_“I would never want someone else because you’re the only one I want. Ever. Nobody else is as good as you,” he said desperately._

_Patrick sniffled, shaking his head. “You better not ever hurt me like this again, you son of a bitch,” he said in a rush, then threw himself at Pete, wrapping his arms around his neck. “I love you, dickhead,” he gasped and Pete let out a shaky sob, wrapping his arms right around Patrick, holding him._

_“Patrick, Patrick, Patrick, Patrick, Patrick-“ Patrick just cried as Pete repeated his name over and over and over, standing there in the cold as snowflakes drifted down around them._

Patrick and Pete had finally gone inside, only to find Patrick’s mother standing at the window, blubbering like an idiot before proclaiming they were both stupid and fussing over them getting frostbite.

Patrick hadn’t thought to ask what his surprise was supposed to have been until the next morning, only to discover that Pete had bought him his own bakery as a sort of grand gesture-slash- engagement present. 

Patrick was shaken from his memories by Gerard calling his name. “Huh?” he asked, only to see a dorky grin on his face.

“I said are you through daydreaming about your husband?” he asked, and Patrick rolled his eyes.

“Oh fuck off, I’m your boss, you know?” he said in what was meant to be a threatening voice, but ended up being more teasing.

The bakery had been open for just over a month. He and Pete had been married twice as long after what would probably be considered the shortest engagement ever for a thirty-two year old mogul who was marrying his boyfriend of barely two years. They had become engaged in May, were married in June, and Patrick’s bakery had opened the beginning of August. 

Patrick liked to say he ‘let’ Pete name his shop, but to be honest, when Pete had come up with the name, Patrick’s hadn’t really argued very hard against it.

The phone rang on his desk, and Patrick smiled, picking up with a light note to his voice as he answered it. “You’ve reached Sugar & Spice bakery, how may we help you this morning?”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick loved his bakery. He still missed out on his former music dream sometimes, but with his bakery he made people’s days just a bit better. His crew was top notch. He couldn’t help but love Pete even more for the crew he had found him. Patrick had worried it would take ages to find a great crew, but Pete had pulled some strings and found the best that the city had to offer.

Patrick’s recipes were ones he’d found and compiled himself, many from his grandmother’s stash left over from her bakery when he was a boy, but his recipes came alive with his crew. His baker, the only person allowed near the ovens, was a genius at never burning or undercooking a single thing. Ever. Bob Bryar, a large, visually menacing man, didn’t seem like the type to be a baker, but he was the best Patrick could imagine. 

Just as surprising as the large, alarmingly gruff man baking, Patrick’s cookie specialist was six foot tall, nearly as broad, had the most massive hair he had ever seen (when it wasn’t in a somewhat embarrassingly inflated hairnet), and yet he decorated dainty little cookies like it was the most important task in the world, masculinity be damned. He was also Patrick’s assistant at cake decorating, since he wasn’t exactly the best there was on his own. Together, Patrick and Ray, with help from Bob, brought Gerard’s designs to life.

Patrick’s two youngest employees, Brendon, the pastry chef, and Spencer, the chocolatier and candy maker, were both first year culinary school students with the focus on the foods found in bakeries. Patrick still was a bit intimidated by the whole ‘culinary school’ thing, but they knew their stuff. They usually came in, made their things in the morning early, had classes during the day, and showed up again for the late afternoon and evening rush. 

Spencer’s best friend and roommate Ryan, a part time shop assistant, was the only person Pete hadn’t hired to be the ‘best of the best’… Patrick just got tired of him hanging around without doing anything and, after the first two weeks, offered him a job.

Because they were so good, Patrick was somewhat shocked by their reaction to the order he was announcing. They were all just staring. “Guys… it’s just a big cake and some pastries,” he said simply.

Brendon was the first to speak. “But… but it’s a political charity event! That’s _big_!”

“He’s sorta right,” Ray said. “I mean, it’s not just a big order, we’re gonna be feeding tons of powerful people… what if we fuck up and somehow poison all the city’s political head dudes and they all barf their guts up,” he said, looking horrified.

Patrick just rolled his eyes. “Guys, it’s just another order. Hell, the only reason we got it, I’m pretty certain, is because my father-in-law is on the organization committee. And the only reason he’s there is to get a favor from someone else who doesn’t want to do it,” he said, shrugging. “Just don’t fuck up the order and we’ll all be fine,” he said.

Ross made a face as they dispersed and he headed back up front to the cash register. “Must be nice,” he mentioned, and Patrick hummed as he boxed up some cookies for the lady at the register. “To be married into money,” he clarified, and Patrick shot him a look.

“I’ll fire you again, Ross,” he warned.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, I admit I don’t know your dude very well, but the few times I’ve met him, I’ve come away wanting to dig out my eyeballs with rusty spoons just to distract myself from how annoying he can be in bursts of less than ten minutes,” he said. “You can’t tell me money wasn’t a factor,” he said. “Or at least influence,” he amended.

Patrick snorted. “I admit, my husband is one of the most irritating people in the world and he is pretty much an idiot,” he said, then smiled. “But he’s my idiot,” he said with an admittedly soppy smile, and Brendon suddenly popped up.

“Awwwww, that’s so sweet!” he said, and Patrick rolled his eyes.

“Stop asking about my love life,” he chastised.

Ross snorted. “You didn’t deny my statement about money and influence,” he said, and Patrick sighed.

“No, Ryan, I didn’t marry Pete for his money or his influence. I married him because I love him and I learned for a short while what it was like to lose him. I didn’t like my prospective future without him in it,” Patrick said simply.

Brendon smiled. “Doesn’t hurt he’s hot,” he said, and Patrick turned back, glaring.

“Hey! You’re nearly young enough to be his _kid_! Don’t call my husband hot!” he said, looking annoyed.

Spencer snickered. “Call me crazy, but I sorta doubt there are many thirteen year old dad’s in the world. I mean, it’s possible theoretically, but _really_? That’s the argument you wanna go with?” he asked and Patrick shook his head, smiling.

“How about I’ll fire you all?” he threatened, but his voice held no malice.

Brendon giggled. “Patrick’s always less grumpy the mornings he comes to work late,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at Patrick, who felt his cheek flushing against his will.

Ryan snorted. “Brendon, you can’t joke about a happy wakeup call when you’ve never been laid to begin with,” he teased and Brendon glared.

“Oh fuck off, Ross,” he growled, grumbling as he went back to his table in the kitchen.

Patrick fought a smile and shot Ryan a look. “That was wrong, dude,” he said, only to laugh when nobody else was looking.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick was fixing the display when he heard the bell over the door tinkle. “Hi, welcome to Sugar & Spice,” he straightened up, wiping his hands on his apron, though they weren’t really dirty. “Can I help you?” he asked, turning, only to smile when he saw who was walking in. 

Pete grinned, walking over. “I sure hope so,” he said, smiling brightly as he put his hands in his pockets obviously. “I’m looking for something sweet yet spicy at the same time,” he said, and Patrick rolled his eyes.

“I’m not letting you sweet talk me into making out with you right now,” he said, already knowing where Pete was going.

Pete pouted. “Aww, but I came all the way down here to see you during my lunch break,” he said, taking his hands from his pockets to step closer and slide into Patrick’s back pockets.

Patrick smiled widely, still sometimes caught in awe as he thought ‘this is my life’. “And I’m happy to see you, but seriously, stop groping me in front of my employees,” he chastised, pulling Pete’s hands out of his back pockets. He glanced over his shoulder and eyed the two who had walked in. “Who’re your friends, Panda?” he asked, only to blush when he heard poorly hidden giggles from behind the counter.

Pete smirked over at the two teenagers snickering at them. “Hey, don’t piss him off, he’ll kick your asses, trust me, he can do it,” he said, winking as he leaned in and stole a kiss from Patrick, who whined and ducked out of Pete’s arms. “This is Mikey and this is Frank,” he said, introducing his companions. “Mikey’s brother is one of the dudes I hired cause Mikey said he was awesome,” he said. “Not sure which, I don’t remember-“

“Gerard,” Patrick said, and Mikey nodded. “You two look just alike… only you look like a boy,” he teased, and Mikey smirked.

Pete chuckled. “And Frank’s working PR for a new set of bands I’m trying to land. He’ll eventually end up being my manager later this year when we launch Clandestine Clothing,” he said, and Patrick’s eyes widened.

“You got the licensing approved?” he asked, and Pete nodded, looking excited. “Pete!” he cried, hugging him happily. “I’m so happy for you,” he said, and Pete shook his head.

“For us,” he said, kissing him quickly. “I’m basing all my first season’s designs on your obsession with bright colors,” he said, making Patrick roll his eyes. “Don’t do that, you’re my _muse_ ,” he stressed, holding him around the waist.

Patrick heard a dreamy sigh behind them and rolled his eyes. “Brendon, aren’t you restricted to G-rating only? I’m pretty sure Pete’s hand is headed for a completely PG place,” he said, reaching back to catch Pete’s wrist before he snuck another butt grab.

Brendon huffed audibly. “Ha ha, very funny. I’m an adult, you know?! Just cause I’m little and you’re all mean to me doesn’t mean I’m _actually_ five!”

Pete smiled, pressing his lips to Patrick’s sweetly. “I love that kid, he’s hilarious,” he said, and Patrick sighed.

“Alright, enough unprofessional time, now I’ve gotta go back to work,” he said, granting Pete one last small kiss before he pulled away, heading back behind the counter. “So, what’s really up with the visit?” he asked, and Pete faked an offended gasp and dramatic hand on his chest.

“A man can’t just happen to want to come visit his husband?” he asked, and Patrick snorted.

“Not a man like you,” he teased. “Besides, who drags co-workers when you go to flirt with somebody?” he asked.

Pete smiled. “Actually, we’re really going for lunch, I just wanted to come tell you the good news. My next big industry is ready to take off!” he said.

Patrick couldn’t hide how happy he was to see Pete so excited. “I’m happy for you, Pete,” he said simply and Pete looked pleased. “Soon you can market the bands that set trends, design clothes to match the trends, I can supply kids the carbs to become too fat for the trends, and your dad can handle the class action law suits against you and me for marketing bulimia,” he joked and Pete groaned.

“Don’t even pretend that. I’m already being accosted by the size police because they claim my designs all run too small and it promotes eating disorders. I can’t help I design to my own figure and I’m a tiny shit,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Patrick shook his head. “Just start designing them to my figure, then they’ll all be for fat midgets!” he said, and Pete made a face.

“Gorgeous figured angels is more like it,” he said, then sighed. “Alright, we’ve got to go, I’ve got a meeting with a designer for my website in an hour and we still need lunch.”

Patrick nodded. “See you later, Panda,” he said, and Pete waved on the way out.

“Later, Lunchbox!”

Patrick groaned cringing. He knew what he would see before he turned around, but it didn’t stop him from blushing when the three at the counter all burst out laughing at his nickname. Gerard, who had been out to greet his brother, smirked. “Patrick, I’m pretty sure nicknames that bad are grounds for divorce, you should seriously check into that, you’ll be a very rich man,” he said.

Patrick sighed. “First off, it’s _sweet_ the way he means it,” he argued, then cringed. “And second, there was a prenup, so no, I really won’t be.”

Spencer made a face. “Ew, he made you sigh an prenup? That’s not exactly the most confidence that can be displayed, is it?” he asked, and Patrick shrugged.

“If your parents were political figures, you were a record executive with plans to start a clothing label as well, and your net worth is in the admittedly low but still double digit millions, wouldn’t you want a prenup too?” he said, and Spencer paused, weighing the options. “Pete knows I’m in it for love, but on the off chance I was in it to divorce him and get enough to live comfortably for the rest of my life on, do you really think he’d risk that?” he asked.

Ryan hummed. “That’s really a smart move… I’d totally marry a rich guy just to divorce him and get half his millions of dollars,” he said, and Patrick snickered.

“You aren’t right, kid.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When Patrick got home, he wasn’t at all surprised to hear Pete on the phone in his office. Pete was often stuck making late conference calls to other time zones that he took at home rather than stay late at work. Patrick particularly loved the satellite video meetings where Pete wore a shirt, tie, jacket, and Tweety bird pajama pants.

Patrick peeked in to see what Pete was doing, and was given a small wave and a mouthed ‘ten minutes’ as Pete listened to the person on the other line. Patrick nodded and smiled as he headed upstairs to get a shower and change. There had been a powdered sugar incident that wasn’t _entirely_ Brendon’s fault, but had ended in all of them appearing prematurely gray and semi-albino.

When Patrick got out of the shower and got dressed, Pete was already flopped across the bed. Patrick smiled tiredly, going to flop down beside him. Pete smiled. “Rough day?” he asked, and Patrick grumbled an affirmative answer.

“Just a lot had to be done and now I’m tired,” he said.

Pete nodded. “Me too,” he said, stroking Patrick’s side. “I think there’s leftover Chinese from last night… want to just eat that as we veg out watching trashy reruns, then crawl to bed and not wake up for a month?” he asked, and Patrick smiled.

“Sure! Only we both have work tomorrow,” he said, and Pete mimed crying. “Five for me and eight for you,” he said, and Pete sighed.

“I know you love your job, but you know, as the boss, you don’t _have_ to be there at five, right?” he asked, and Patrick nodded.

“Yes, it’s not _required_ but it’s good for teambuilding,” he said, and Pete made a face. Patrick grinned. “Hey, my team not yours,” he said, leaning over to kiss him sweetly.

Pete grumbled, sliding his arms around Patrick as he squirmed closer. “But don’t you want me to make you late in the morning,” he said, grinning into Patrick’s neck, worming a hand up the back of his shirt.

Patrick laughed, worming his hand out, pulling it around to press a kiss to his palm. “Right now I’m so tired sex even sounds annoying,” he said, and Pete nodded.

“Me too, but in the morning,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “I can always tire you out even more,” he said, pressing a kiss to Patrick’s neck.

Patrick hummed. “Pete, the only way you’re gonna get any is if you are willing to wake up at four with me,” he said, and Pete made a face.

“Fuck it, I don’t need sex,” he said, curling into Patrick’s side. Patrick laughed, smiling as he closed his eyes, leaning his head against Pete’s.

“Alright, we need to eat,” Patrick said, sitting up. Pete whined, but Patrick smiled, tugging him up into a sitting position.

Pete whined. “No,” he flopped back.

Patrick laughed. “Pete, come on, you’re skinny enough,” he said, tugging him into a sitting position again, smiling when Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick’s middle, looking up at him. “Come eat something, then you can go to sleep,” he said, kissing Pete’s forehead.

Pete sighed, smiling up at him. “Love you,” he said, and Patrick smiled, pushing his fingers through Pete’s tangled dark hair.

“Love you more.” Patrick tugged away, smiling when Pete pouted and made grabby hands. “Come on, I’m hungry,” he said, and Pete whined, standing to shuffle along behind Patrick.

Once they got to their large but also largely unused kitchen, Patrick smiled as he heated up the leftovers. Pete grumbled, snuggling into Patrick’s side, refusing to let go. Patrick rolled his eyes affectionately. “Pete, you’re a grown ass man, why are you acting like a five year old?” he asked, and Pete just pouted, grumbling as he yawned widely and rubbed his eyes with his fist. Patrick snickered. “Like that.”

Pete yawned again. “Grownups are lame, I’m never gonna grow up,” he said, and Patrick smiled.

“Yeah, I noticed,” he teased, smiling when Pete stood behind him, arms around his waist, nose pressed against his neck and leaned against him. Patrick smiled, leaning back. “How was business today?” he asked, closing his eyes as Pete held him.

Pete sighed. “Somebody else was mean about you. Some local ‘let’s pick on the rich people of the city’ reporter was going on and on about ‘Wentz could’ve bought a supermodel, but instead he got stuck with a ginger midget’ and I almost got my driver to find that dude and run him over on his way to work.” Pete huffed as he snuck his fingertips under Patrick’s shirt, pressing them into bare skin.

Patrick grumbled. “I am sick of being picked on because you chose to marry me, not a barely legal super model,” he said, and Pete nodded, kissing his shoulder.

“I don’t care about what they say… other than that whole ‘wanting to kill them all’ thing,” he said, and Patrick smiled.

“I know you love me, so it doesn’t matter who talks shit,” he said, and Pete groused.

“Whatever.” He stuck his hands all the way under Patrick’s shirt. “They better shut up about my Patrick, though.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Ray huffed, blowing at a loose piece of hair that had fallen from his ponytail, annoyed it wasn’t staying up how he wanted it. His hands were dirty, busy mixing cookie batter with his hands. However, even his hair was less annoying than the brown eyes slowly peeking up over the edge of his table at that moment. “No, Brendon.”

“But- but-“

“Don’t you have class soon,” Ray interrupted.

Brendon sighed. “Yes. But I’m failing at that class anyhow,” he said sadly.

Ray frowned, feeling slightly less annoyed as he saw how down the young man looked. “Why? Isn’t it your French pastry lady teacher?” he asked, and Brendon nodded. “You’re great at French pastries!”

Brendon looked through the window to the front of the shop. “But Spencer’s in that class,” he said, and Ray raised an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you guys friends?” he asked, and Brendon deflated, bottom lip popping out. Ray cringed. “Not friends?”

Brendon shook his head desolately. “He hates me. He’s pretty and he hates me,” he said, sighing. “Ray Toro, why do pretty boys hate me?” he asked dramatically.

Ray shrugged. “I don’t know, you seem like a nice guy to me,” he said with a smile. “If you weren’t a kid, I’d probably think you were attractive, too,” he added, and Brendon smirked.

“I’m not a little kid, so you can think I’m whatever you want,” he offered, wiggling his eyebrows. Ray just smiled.

“Sorry, Brendon, but you’re like… what, half my age?” he asked.

Brendon snorted. “I’m _an adult_!” he argued but then frowned. “Wait… how old _are_ you?” he asked.

Ray sighed. “Thirty-four,” he said, and Brendon gaped.

“Ew, I thought old people were supposed to be like… fat and ugly and married and stuff,” he said in a rush, only to blush. “I mean… you look nothing like you’re old!”

Ray rolled his eyes. “Thirty-four isn’t old, I am fat and ugly, and I’d love to be married, but that takes someone else wanting to be married to me,” he said pointedly.

Brendon blinked. “You’re not _that_ fat and you’re not _really_ ugly. I mean, if you weren’t old I’d actually say you’re kinda cute, but even if you weren’t, aren’t there plenty of old desperate ladies who would marry you no matter how old based solely on the fact you’re semi-cute and can bake?” he asked, and Ray smiled at the thought process the teen followed.

“Brendon, I know as a teenager thirty seems old, but my best chance will come past forty. Then I’ll be the semi-cute, knows how to bake, _only_ single guy left and people will be desperate enough they won’t care how boring, lame, and dorky I am, just that they won’t die alone, so then we can not die alone together,” he said, sighing sadly. “It’s tragic.”

Brendon cringed. “Ew, I’m glad I’m young and hot,” he said, and Ray snorted. “What?! I’m nineteen, a college freshman, newly outed, and I’ve been told my ass is hot!” he said, and Ray smiled.

“You’re my favorite person sometimes, Brendon,” Ray admitted, shaking his head as he smiled and finished mixing his cookie dough. “And maybe you’ll get lucky and meet somebody early like Patrick,” he said, and Brendon frowned, looking confused.

“Patrick isn’t old?” he asked, and Ray shook his head, rolling flat the cookie dough so he could get the cutters for the shapes he needed.

Ray smiled as Brendon ducked down and popped up with the cookie cutters. “Thanks,” he said, picking out the one he needed. “But no, Patrick’s not old at all. He was doing his final internship for his degree when he met Pete. Well, I heard that, but I don’t _know_. But I do know he was only twenty-five when they met.”

Brendon gaped. “Ew, isn’t Pete like… really old?!?” he asked. “Older than you!” He frowned again before his expression became one of realization. Ray could nearly spot the proverbial light bulb over his head and could only wonder what he had ‘realized’. “Wait, I get it now, Pete’s his sugar daddy, right?” he said, and Ray bit his lip to keep from laughing. “That totally has to be it, no way else you’d marry somebody that old!”

“Brendon,” Ray said, shaking his head. “Patrick’s husband may look a little older than he is, but he’s not old. He’s younger than me, I think. I’m not sure, but I’m pretty sure Patrick mentioned he turned thirty-two this year, so he’s only five years older than Patrick.” Ray lowered his voice, looking around first. “Rumor has it he actually isn’t Patrick’s sugar daddy. I mean, he is rich and I’m sure he does give Patrick tons of nice things, but that’s not _it_. Nobody’s found out the details from the gossip I’ve heard, but apparently, Patrick hated Pete at first and then fell for him and money really wasn’t a factor,” he said, grinning. Ray loved to gossip and Brendon and Spencer had been the last hired, so Brendon hadn’t heard some of the older gossip around the shop.

Brendon breathed. “Wow,” he said, then suddenly blinked and smiled. “Awwwww, that’s so romantic though! A young, pretty college kid falling in love for a rich, older… older guy,” he said, and Ray chuckled at his description. “And then living happily ever after cause his man just happens to be conveniently rich and can buy him a happily ever after!”

Ray shook his head, smiling. “Something tells me you’ve read too many cheesy romance novels and watched way too much Disney,” he said, and Brendon shrugged.

“What else am I supposed to do on the weekends and at night? I don’t have friends and my roommate is never in because I think he’s a slut,” he said, then thought about it. “And maybe a vampire, but that’s only cause I’ve only ever seen him sleep during the day and disappear all night. He’s either out being a creature of the night or having tons of sex at the girl’s dorms.”

“Telling Ray your ‘roomie is a vampire or a slut’ theory, huh, Bren?” Gerard asked, smiling as he handed Ray a sheet. “Here’s the cookie designs for the Johnson order,” he said.

Brendon huffed. “He _is_! I mean… he’s either sleeping or not there!” He sighed. “I’ll be so glad when I can afford my own place. Or to buy a place with someone I like, not just put up with a creepy roommate because he’s the cheapest I could find.”

Ray chuckled. “Brendon, you said it yourself; you’re young and cute and funny! Go out, make friends. Hell, _I_ have friends.” He nodded. “Like Gerard,” he said, and Brendon groaned.

“You don’t get it, you’re too old,” he said, then huffed, crossing his arms. “I’m weird and nobody likes weird unless they’re old and desperate. I’m too young for desperate!” he said, turning to head back out front to check on the pastries.

Gerard snorted. “I love that kid,” he said, and Ray made a face.

“He’s a lot like I was as a kid… only skinny and short and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t play the guitar,” he said, and Gerard shrugged.

“I didn’t play guitar, but I was just as fat and weird. I ended up…” he stopped to think, only to take on a distant look horror and then sigh heavily. “That poor kid, we need to help him while he’s still got a chance,” he said, and Ray nodded solemnly. “I don’t want to see the kid die alone like we’re gonna,” he added, and Ray rolled his eyes.

“I am not gonna die alone… I just… need to meet the right person!” Ray defended, picking up the instructions to see what else they needed.

Gerard smirked as he saw blue eyes peeking between the shelves behind them. “Oh, I’m sure they’re out there,” he said, smiling as he turned to head back into the office to work on the next designs and orders.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick smiled as he handed the old lady he was serving her package of pastries. “Have a nice day!” he said, waving as she walked out. As soon as she was gone he let his smile melt away and he glared at the clock.

“What’s up your butt?” Ryan asked, climbing onto the stool beside him.

Patrick glared. “Well, I’m going to some event tonight and I don’t want to,” he said, making a face.

“Why not?” he asked and Patrick sighed.

“Pete’s just doing his part for some charity by going to this dinner thing. I hate these events because sometimes I think Pete’s about the only person there that is honestly giving from his heart, not just to get his face next to a ‘I give money!’ headline.”

Ryan arched an eyebrow. “You’re telling me your husband isn’t just another camera whore?” he asked, and Patrick smiled.

“Oh no, he is a camera whore, he loves getting his picture taken by photographers at these events, but with charities, Pete honestly wants to help. Well, some of them he thinks are useless and just for publicity, but the one tonight is for vaccinations for children in sub-Saharan Africa,” he said.

Ryan hummed. “Sounds like a perfect opportunity for politicians and celebrities to buy their way out of their latest scandal.”

Patrick shrugged. “Pretty much. But like I’ve tried to tell all my friends and family, Pete’s not just in it for the publicity. Pete honestly believes in all this shit.” He smiled. “Half the reason I love Pete so much is because his heart is so big. He seems like just another rich kid who doesn’t have to grow up and take any real responsibilities, but Pete’s not just that. He wants to help people,” he said. “All the proceeds from his launch party for the clothing line this winter, he’s gonna match it and for Christmas, we’re going on a trip to a few different children’s hospitals around the US and getting them all Christmas presents.” Patrick ducked his head, biting his lip so he didn’t _look_ as smitten as he felt as he thought about his husband. “He always does it for one of the children’s hospitals here in Chicago, but this year we’re doing it for hospitals in several cities.”

Ryan hummed. “That’s… unexpected, to be honest.” He shrugged. “Don’t be mad, but your husband kinda comes across as a douche,” he said. “A self-absorbed one at that,” he added.

Patrick shrugged, chuckling. “Pete is a douche and pretty self-absorbed most of the time, but when you know him, you find out he’s not really that bad.” Patrick went to start straightening some of the displays. “To be honest, he makes me feel sorta bad sometimes because a lot of the time, I don’t even think about the things he tries to put aside time and money to give to,” he admitted. “I rarely think about children at all, and Pete would probably be a lot wealthier if he didn’t give so much money to charities for kids.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes. “Be honest, how rich are you guys?” he asked. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me a number or anything, but is it ‘we have a lot in investments and possessions’ or ‘we have a lot in the bank’ or ‘Pete’s got a big inheritance coming when his parents kick it’?” he asked.

Patrick laughed. “Well, to be honest some of each. I mean, Pete’s not big on stocks and, on my own, I’m probably in the red, but we’ve got a nice house, Pete’s the owner and president of a successful recording label, and most of his money is invested in that and the start-up costs of the clothing company. We’ve got a good bit in various savings accounts and such as well, and yes, when his dad and mom kick it, he’ll inherit some money, but to be honest, most of the money they have is left to his brother and sister because they have normal lives and families,” he pointed out.

Ryan nodded. “And if Pete were to kick it, God forbid, would you be magically very rich?” he asked, giving Patrick a suggestive look.

Patrick glared. “I would never kill my husband for his money,” he said flatly. “I married him because I love him. I grew up middle class and would be perfectly happy continuing that way, I just happened to fall for Pete, not the girl I was dating before I was with Pete,” he said.

Ryan hummed. “My family wasn’t _rich_ but I did go to a private school as a kid. And me and Spencer both grew up in the upper-middle class neighborhood… I’d love to marry a rich guy,” he said. “Does Pete have any siblings who are young and gay?” he asked, and Patrick snorted.

“Are you even gay?” he asked, and Ryan shook his head.

“Nope, I’m actually straight, but I’d be gay if it got me married into money,” he said, and Patrick laughed until he noticed Ryan wasn’t.

“Right…” Patrick knocked his knuckles on the counter. “I’m going back to work,” he said, heading back into the kitchen to look around before heading into the office. When he walked in, he saw Gerard sketching away. “What’s being designed now?” he asked, and Gerard looked up, smiling.

“Oh dude, I got an order for a thirtieth birthday cake for a person whose birthday is on _Halloween_!” he said excitedly. “Oh, did I mention you’re the name on the order?” he asked. “Not sure how that works out, but you are,” he said.

Patrick frowned. “What?” He went and took the sheet that Gerard held out and eyed it. He hummed. “Well, Pete obviously wrote this, but how did he sneak it in my office desk tray and why on earth is my name on an order for a person I don’t know?” he ventured.

Gerard read the name. “It asks for the message ‘Happy Birthday Frank’ if that helps?” he offered, and Patrick shook his head. “Eh, I don’t know. The order is still good, right?” he asked, and Patrick smiled at how excited Gerard was to design a Halloween birthday cake.

“Yeah, let me check it out with Pete first before we start ordering any special ingredients, but it’s not supposed to be ready for another six weeks so go ahead and sketch the designs for the cake,” he said. He looked at the order. “It also calls for some cupcakes and cookies, so I’ll be talking to Brendon and Ray about those. I’ll need some mock up designs for them to start with, but for now you can focus on the cake,” he informed him.

Gerard cheered. “Yay! I’ve got the craziest idea already!”

Patrick chuckled, shaking his head. “I bet you do,” he said with a smile, loving how excited Gerard got about designs he had any interest in the topic behind. “What’re you thinking?” he asked.

Gerard smiled, grabbing a rough sketch off his table. “Look!” he said, showing him a few designs. “See, the order is for a three tier, so I thought on the top tier can be the message and some like… tombstones and stuff. Maybe you can get Ray to do some sugar cobwebs on the sides, you know? And then here it’s like… the bottom tier can be the evolution of Halloween. Like, from a pagan ritual all wrapped around to different forms, and then the one with a little kid trick-or-treating can be next to a jack-o-lantern and then on the second tier, there can be a bunch of the standard Halloween monsters. Like… zombies and vampires and stuff!”

Patrick smiled. “Dude, this is sweet,” he said, looking at it. “Seriously, this is amazing. I’m not sure Ray and I will be able to do this all ourselves though.” Gerard sighed heavily. Patrick nudged him. “Want to help us decorate this one? I know you like to be hands off but Pete will pay for this extravagant of a cake, I know it, he loves all this super creative stuff. You can help us out,” he said and Gerard beamed.

“Well, I can always mold the little figures from that hard sugary stuff you guys use,” he said, and Patrick smiled.

“Great. Because I’m not so sure either Ray or I are good enough to sculpt those little figures, but we can try,” he said.

Gerard hummed. “I wish I had been doing all this when I turned thirty. I’d have had the sickest cake,” he said, grinning.

Patrick chuckled. “Pete and I had only barely started dating when he turned thirty so it wasn’t as big a deal, but this year he had me make his birthday cake. I told him without a proper crew I would never get it to look professional, but he said it would be practice for when the shop opened and that it didn’t matter, since it was just us,” he said.

Gerard raised an eyebrow. “No big party? I’d think Pete Wentz would throw himself a birthday bash and shit.”

Patrick smiled. “We were on our honeymoon. We got married like… two days before his birthday.”

Gerard smirked. “No wonder he didn’t want anybody else around,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. Patrick glared, even if his cheeks turned pink.

“Why the hell do all of you suddenly feel the need to tease me about who I’m married to? It’s like… this week’s the first week people decided it was okay to push the boundaries of professionalism,” he said.

Gerard shrugged. “We’ve been open a month. Everybody had to figure out where you stood as a boss. I mean, everybody’s figured out you’re easygoing and nice and not likely to fire us for poking fun,” he said, and Patrick shrugged.

“Hey, I’m used to it. At least you guys aren’t really mean about it. The members of the local press are horrible,” he said, groaning. “Whenever it’s a slow news day, they turn to the scandals of the local rich people and of course, marrying a short, fat _man_ instead of buying a twenty-two year old super model trophy wife will apparently never not be worth picking on,” he said, shaking his head.

Gerard shrugged. “I’ve never really spoken to him but your husband doesn’t really act like the classic ‘rich guy’. He seems like he’d be pretty awesome other than the fact he and my brother used to have a thing,” he said, making a face. “That kills any urge to ever hold a conversation with him because all I’d hear in my head is ‘he’s seen your baby brother naked’ and really… _not_ what I want to experience,” he said.

Patrick grumbled. “So… your brother, the tall one from the other day?” he asked, and Gerard nodded.

“Yeah, they used to be like… disgusting together. Mikey dumped him because he was getting too serious about what was just supposed to be a fling, but it was still traumatic,” he said, then froze. “Wait… this isn’t something I should be telling you, right? Oh shit, dude, don’t fire me,” he said, and Patrick waved a hand.

“No, dude, I know all about it. I even knew you were Mikey Way’s brother, I’ve just never actually met him, so I didn’t connect that it was that guy from the other day. I sorta figured it was someone else for some reason,” he said, humming. “Pete kinda told me he wasn’t that pretty, so I didn’t think that was him,” he said. “Plus Pete doesn’t really do ‘taller’. Like… everybody always said I was Pete’s type, other than the fat part.”

Gerard shrugged. “Nah, Mikey’s my only sibling. And really, sorry to bring it up-“

Patrick chuckled. “No, Gerard, it’s cool,” he said. He took a breath. “I just get jealous sometimes,” he admitted, shrugging bashfully. “Pete and I nearly ended because I thought he was cheating on me, but it was just one of those ‘movie scene’ misunderstandings.” 

Gerard hummed. “Not that I’m saying he’s lying, but how can you really, truly trust someone if they claimed it was just a misunderstanding?” he asked curiously.

Patrick shrugged. “I guess… I just know him,” he said simply. “I know he can do better than me. I know he has to be around hotter people every day who would be with him in a heartbeat, but I just trust him. I guess that’s all you can do, really, isn’t it?” he asked, and Gerard smiled.

“Eh, don’t look at me for understanding. I’m still sorta amazed by the whole ‘steady dating’ thing. I’ve sure as hell never been in actual love, or had a serious relationship while sober, so I’m far from the one to understand all this relationship shit you people talk about,” he said, chuckling. “Although I can promise, if Pete were to ever go for anybody else, it wouldn’t be my brother. He’s married now too and he like… thinks his wife is the best thing in the world. I didn’t really ever see a happy marriage before them,” he added. “You’ve got no competition there.”

Patrick smiled. “Yeah, Pete was invited to their wedding and decided not to go since he was an ex. We weren’t even dating yet then but he was stalking me and it came up in conversation,” he explained.

Gerard huffed. “Nobody I ever stalked ended up falling in love with me,” he said and Patrick burst out laughing. Gerard pouted. “Well they didn’t!” he cried, and then ducked his head, sketching more detail onto the sketch as he blushed, listening to Patrick’s laughter.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When Patrick imagined charity events before he’d ever gone to one, he had imagined tons of rich people with their heads up their asses who looked down at him as less important because of his bank account content. As he had discovered, that’s pretty much what it was like, only rather than only look down at him, the thinly veiled insults were much less thinly veiled than he would’ve ever expected prior to learning what the asshole wealthy people could really be like.

Pete was used to it, but he never seemed to get used to them directing their insults at Patrick. Patrick both hated and was, in a twisted sense, amused by charity events because of how bad they annoyed Pete. He hated having to see Pete upset, but at the same time, having Pete defend him to the rich and beautiful was always a bit pleasing for his ego.

As they made it into the banquet hall for the event, checked their coats, and started through the hall, stopping to schmooze to all the appropriate people, Patrick spotted one of the ladies they were coming up to, the wife of some business executive, eating one of the pastries his shop had catered to the event. Pete finished speaking to the guy he was talking to and slid his hand into Patrick’s, nodding over to the group Patrick had just been looking at. “State senate members, gotta go suck up some since his daughter is working on an album with my label,” he said, and Patrick nodded, smiling when Pete kissed his hand as a sort of preemptive apology. 

“Ah! Peter,” the man said, smiling and clapping a hand on his shoulder as they walked over. “Guys, this is the genius who’s helping my little girl be a star,” he said, and Patrick and Pete both laughed appropriately, though Patrick knew Pete thought his ‘little girl’ was shit.

“Senator Carlson, it’s always a pleasure,” Pete said, shaking his hand. 

The man chuckled, waving a hand. “Oh, call me Steve,” he said, and Pete nodded. “So, I hear your father’s working on a new case against the state,” he prompted, and Pete smiled.

“Eh, something like that. I try and keep my nose out of all the politics. That’s my parents place, you know? I think it’s something about workplace discrimination against the state’s government employees,” he said, and Patrick bit back a smirk, knowing Pete loved messing with them. The case was one they had heard about because it had to do with a lesbian couple suing for discrimination. Patrick remembered how conservative the present group of men was and loved how they all had to be nice to Pete, even if he was pushing their buttons. “I’m not sure but my dad’s pretty much got a handle on it, I think,” he said, shrugging innocently.

“Ah,” Senator Carlson said. “Well, we’ll be sure to keep an eye on that one, huh?” he said, and Patrick bit back a laugh, covering it with a small cough. Pete gave him a concerned glance, but Patrick saw the way his eyes smiled.

“Tell me,” the man’s wife started. “The catering card has your name on it. Does your sister own a catering company, Mr. Wentz?” she asked, and Patrick fought not to groan. He just knew the looks of disdain were coming.

Pete smiled. “No, actually, Patrick owns a bakery,” he said, squeezing Patrick’s hand visibly. “One of the very best in the city, I’d say,” he said proudly and Patrick gave him a smile.

“Oh!” The woman said, looking down her nose at him. “How… charming,” she said, and Patrick fought to keep the smile on his face. “How many branches are their of your chain?” she asked, and Patrick cringed internally.

“Oh, no. Just one shop,” Patrick said, politely. “I helped out in my grandmother’s shop as a kid and Pete bought me a bakery as sort of an engagement gift,” he said, not wanting to sound ungrateful just because he hated these people knowing exactly how ‘below them’ he was.

Pete was grinning, hoping it passed as proud husband, as he saw the uncomfortable looks on every person’s face in the group. “Well, we must be moving on. We’ve got plenty of people we have to speak with,” Pete said, and Patrick let out a breath, smiling with relief as they said their goodbyes and walked on.

“Pete-“

Pete sighed. “I know, Patrick, but what was I supposed to do?! She asked!” he said. “I promise, they care too much about my dad’s lawsuit to risk gossiping about us,” he said, and Patrick gave him a disbelieving look. “Patrick,” he said, giving his hand a brief squeeze. “Don’t worry,” he said, and Patrick sighed but nodded.

“Alright, but this time, if they call me common and beneath them and shit, you cannot get pissy and threaten to sue them and all the other dramatic things you do when you get pissy,” he said, and Pete gave him a small pout.

“But you’re my Patrick and I don’t like it when they’re mean,” he said, and Patrick rolled his eyes affectionately.

“Pete,” he warned, and Pete grumbled.

“Fine, whatever,” he said softly and then hummed. “Can I at least post angry blogs on the Studio’s website?” he asked, and Patrick shook his head, amused.

“Fine, but that’s it,” he said, sliding his hand into Pete’s again, tugging him along. The faster they got through schmoozing, the faster the insults ended.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When they got home, Patrick wasn’t in the best mood, but Pete was clearly sulking. As they started to head upstairs, Patrick sighed. “Pete? Pete, come on, what’s wrong?” he asked, and Pete just grumbled, trying to get away without talking. He walked into the office and shut the door. Patrick rolled his eyes and went to change out of his clothes, but quickly came back.

He walked into the office and sighed, rolling his eyes when he saw Pete sitting in his boxers and unbuttoned shirt on his couch, knees pulled up. Classic ‘Pete is sulking’ stance. Patrick walked over. “Pete,” he said, and Pete sighed.

“Patrick, I’m really not-“ Patrick cut him off by sitting down beside him and laying his head on Pete’s shoulder. Pete sighed, letting his head fall back. “Patrick-“

Patrick turned and wormed an arm between Pete’s knees and chest and hugged him close, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I love you,” he said, knowing exactly how to get Pete to stop moping. “What’s wrong?” he asked, stroking his stomach.

Pete sighed, unraveling. “Sheila McArthur asked me why the hell I married a leprechaun instead of her,” he said. Patrick sighed.

“I could poison her if you want,” he offered with a smile and Pete chuckled.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said, turning to press a kiss to the top of Patrick’s head. “I shouldn’t be the one pissed, though. Why are you never pissed?” he asked, looking at him.

Patrick shrugged. “I do get pissed but to their stupid little brains it makes sense. I know you love me and that, for some insane reason, you think I’m not ugly,” he said, and Pete glared.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, pulling him closer as he pressed their noses together. “They can suck my dick,” he said with finality.

Patrick snickered. “There better not be anybody else sucking your dick,” he teased, kissing Pete sweetly. “Pete, I’ve told you to stop getting pissy about people looking down on me. You married me knowing this would happen.”

Pete sighed. “That’s the thing, I didn’t think so,” he said, looking at Patrick. “I mean, it makes sense now that I was just blinded, but I thought people would be so stunned at how amazing my husband was and then I’m still getting used to people saying bad things about you,” he admitted with a pout.

Patrick smiled. “Pete,” he said softly. He stroked Pete’s cheek and brushed their lips together. “Look,” he said, pushing Pete back against the seat as he shifted to straddle him, one knee on either side as he sat on his lap. “As much as it annoys me, it doesn’t matter what people say about me,” he said, looking into Pete’s eyes as he slid his fingers through Pete’s hair, playing with his bangs. “I have have nine hundred billion chances to doubt you,” he said, then shook his head. “But I only need one reason to trust you and I trust that you love me, you honestly think I’m hot-“

“Beautiful,” Pete argued, and Patrick chuckled.

“You honestly think I’m beautiful, and you won’t ever purposefully hurt me,” he finished. “Now, how about you stop pouting,” he teased, leaning in to suck Pete’s exaggeratedly poked out bottom lip between his teeth. “And let me take your mind off it,” he said softly, kissing him slowly.

Pete hummed. “You realize if this is what pouting gets me, you’re not at all discouraging me,” he said, and Patrick laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re insane, Pete,” he said, and then grinned. “Fine, if that’s how it is,” he stood up and turned to walk out. “I’ll just be going to bed-“

“No, forget what I said, I’ll stop pouting!” Pete cried, jumping up to rush after Patrick. He caught him around the waist and tugged him into a kiss. “No more pouting. Pouting is bad,” he said, nodding dramatically.

Patrick smiled, shaking his head. “Nuh-uh, you won’t learn your lesson like that,” he teased, heading upstairs alone. Pete just followed him, whining.

“But, but… you’re perfect and beautiful!” he said, slipping on the stairs. “Oof!” Patrick froze, waiting to be sure he was okay, and rolled his eyes when he heard Pete cursing the carpet.

Patrick just laughed, shaking his head as he thought about how _this_ was his life.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Hey Pete,” Patrick called, looking up from his laptop, where he was checking over orders and supply deliveries. “Who’s Frank and why am I down for his birthday orders?” he asked, and Pete looked up.

“Oh yeah, I meant to tell you about that.” Pete spun his chair to face him from his desk. “Frank Iero’s one of the guys that was there the other day. He’s one of Mikey’s friends and he’s working for the record company now,” he said. “He’s turning thirty on Halloween and I knew your guys would have a ball with that cake and all the cupcakes and cookies and shit. Plus it’ll make him feel more welcome and stuff,” he said.

Patrick smiled. “You are Gerard’s hero now. He’s had more fun with this cake design than I’ve ever seen him. Even more fun than the X-Men birthday cake for that rich kid we did two weeks ago,” he pointed out. “And Gerard’s a geek so that was like… his happiest design ever before now.”

Pete smiled. “So he’s working out well? Mikey said he was talented but I figured you would tell me if he wasn’t and I could find you someone else.”

Patrick scoffed. “I’ve never seen someone able to think up the things that guy can. He’s _amazing_! Seriously, I don’t know where you found the people for my shop but you seriously did well,” he said.

Pete shrugged. “Mostly I asked around. Mikey got me his brother, and your cookie dude was my sister’s nanny for a while-“

Patrick burst out laughing. “Wait, wait… Ray Toro was a _manny_?!?” he asked, and Pete nodded.

“Why?”

Patrick shook his head. “He’s a thirty-something year old, six foot, two-forty, massive dude with a giant afro. I mean… I would’ve thought ‘biker’ or something. Not nanny,” he said.

Pete hummed. “Maybe that’s why,” he said, and Patrick raised an eyebrow. “She had to let him go because every time he took the kids to the park, someone called the cops about a strange man sitting around watching the kids play.”

Patrick snickered. “Aww, poor Ray. He’s a sweet guy.” Pete smiled. “So, where did you get everybody else?” he asked curiously.

Pete hummed. “Well, the big blonde guy used to work at a bakery that closed, but I know him because he’s a part time session guy for me sometimes. I don’t remember his name, but he looks like a Jarnok or something equally as ‘I am a Viking’,” he said, and Patrick snorted. “And then those two culinary school students, I heard bickering in a Starbucks. Something about being late to their pastry class and then I asked them if they wanted a job and they said they could have their professors give me their transcripts and they did,” he said.

Patrick eyed him. “You hired random people?”

Pete shrugged innocently. “They’re good though, right?”

“Yeah, they are,” Patrick admitted. “Well… Brendon’s a hyperactive sugar addicted child in a teenager’s body,” he said, and Pete smiled.

“He’s hot though, right?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Patrick gave him a flat look. “Pete, he’s nineteen years old. And you’re _married_!” he added pointedly.

Pete shrugged innocently. “Come on, like you don’t look,” he said, and Patrick grumbled.

“Fine, his ass is pretty nice,” he admitted, and Pete nodded. “Whatever, Spencer’s a good one though. He’s really professional and doesn’t mope when I tell him to stop eating the powdered sugar,” he said.

Pete hummed. “Is that the one with the sexy hips and scary expression?” he asked, and Patrick glared. “What?!?”

“First off, he wears an apron, I rarely notice his hips, and second, do you spend all your time oogling barely legal teenagers?!” he asked in annoyance.

Pete gave him wide eyes. “None of them are as sexy and beautiful as you,” he tried, and Patrick glared. “I love you and it’s just looking?” he tried, and Patrick shook his head.

“Whatever,” he said, standing up as he closed his laptop. “I can’t say much, it’s not like I don’t notice how big and strong Bob’s arm’s are or how pretty his blue eyes are,” he said, hearing Pete’s spluttering as he walked out. Patrick just smirked to himself as he headed upstairs.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When Patrick got in, he was surprised to see Ray up front, talking to Spencer and Brendon. “Hey!” Brendon said as soon as Patrick walked in. “How come Gerard got a call from your husband demanding he talk to Bob and then Bob turned all red and is hiding in the back and won’t talk to Gerard anymore?” Brendon asked innocently.

Patrick blinked, but then snickered. “Nothing. Let’s just say I was having some fun with Pete and said something about Bob having pretty eyes and big arms,” he said, grinning. “It’s a long story,” he said.

Ray hummed. “That would explain the threatening tone Gerard mentioned,” he said, and Patrick rolled his eyes.

“Pete’s… sensitive,” he said with a laugh. “He was asking for it, he admitted he only noticed Brendon and Spencer in order to overhear their conversation about culinary school because he thought Brendon’s ass was hot and Spencer’s hips were sexy,” he said, grinning.

Brendon turned bright pink and went wide eyes, whereas Spencer just glared. “That pervert,” he muttered and Patrick snickered.

“Pete does like them young,” he said, shrugging. “Gerard’s brother’s the only person he ever dated that was anywhere near his age,” he said and Spencer eyed him.

“And it doesn’t bother you that your husband pervs on teenagers?” he asked, and Patrick laughed.

“He just looks, and besides, how was he supposed to know you’re a teenager?” he asked, shrugging. “Hey, I have eyeballs too. Admittedly, I didn’t notice your hips, but I’ve totally noticed Brendon’s butt,” he said, and Brendon gaped, putting his hands over his backside.

“All you people stop looking at my bottom!” he cried, looking offended.

Patrick grinned and shrugged. “Ray’s is just as nice,” he said, and Ray squeaked, turning red, then awkwardly backed his way back into the kitchen, leaving Patrick and Spencer laughing at his and Brendon’s reactions.

“Okay, I’ll go with you there,” Spencer said, shaking his head. “Alright, what’s going on today?” he asked.

Patrick smiled. “Well, let me go check the orders, but otherwise just get the basics all on the stands,” he said, heading back to his office.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Gerard eyed Patrick when he walked in. “Did my husband hit on you too?” Patrick joked, and Gerard snickered. 

“No, but apparently he wants me to make sure you don’t hit on Bob,” he said, and Patrick snickered. “So, while he was on the phone with me, after scaring Bob, we talked about the designs for this Halloween birthday party and you’re supposed to bring home some scans of the sketches. I described them and he said it sounded great, but he wants to see them,” he said.

Patrick nodded. “I’ll take them home tonight. Did he say anything else?” he asked, and Gerard shrugged. 

“Not really, just to tell you-“ He ducked his head. Gerard coughed. “To tell you your ass is still more sexy than anybody else’s,” he said in a rush, cheeks pink. He cringed. “He made me swear and I don’t like to lie,” he said with a groan.

Patrick snorted. “That’s Pete alright,” he said, shaking his head.

Gerard snorted. “I’d never be able to put up with your husband, dude. I mean, I guess that’s why he’s yours, not mine,” he said, shrugging.

Patrick smiled. “Eh, I never expected anything that’s happened in the last few years, but it’s all worked out.”

“Yeah,” Gerard started. “But… don’t you guys ever fight?” he asked curiously. 

Patrick nodded, opening his planner. “Oh yeah, all the time,” he said with a shrug. “I punched him once when we were dating, but I swore I’d never do that again,” he said with a chuckle. “Seriously, it was in my vows,” he joked. Gerard just stared.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Spencer was forming chocolate molds when Brendon popped up. “Guess what!” he said, and Spencer jumped, yelping.

Gerard, who was watching Ray decorate a cake to make sure he did it right, looked up. “You’ve perfected how to give people heart attacks?” he tried, and Brendon rolled his eyes.

“No! I’ve got a _date_!” he said brightly, and then paused dramatically. “With a boy!”

Spencer eyed him. “As opposed to what? A girl?” he asked.

Brendon huffed. “I have a date with a boy, Spencer Smith! I’ve never been on a date with a boy!”

“Have you been on a date with a girl?” Gerard asked, and Brendon blushed.

“No,” he grumbled. He whined. “Spencer, you’re supposed to be my buddy… sorta,” he said, making a face.

Spencer snorted. “We’re classmates, don’t get it confused.”

Ray frowned. “Well that’s mean,” he said, then eyed Brendon. “Hey, I’m happy for you,” he said, and Brendon smiled widely. “So, what’s this boy like?”

Brendon shrugged. “He’s twenty-two, his name’s Jeff, we’re going to a party this weekend, and I’m pretty sure his entire plan is to get me drunk and have sex with me, but I’m surprisingly okay with that,” he said brightly. “Well… I’ll probably pretend the drunk part, cause I don’t have a good history with drinking, but still, it’s all the same,” he said.

Spencer eyed him. “Wow, you’re such a slut,” he said, and Brendon eyed him. 

“Oh yeah? Your best friend has slept with half my building!” Brendon argued. 

Spencer snorted. “He has not. Besides, at least if he did he wasn’t willing to let some older guy get him drunk just to have sex with him,” he said. “That’s called a sleazebag,” he said.

Brendon snorted. “I’m a nineteen year old virgin!” he cried, and the entire kitchen seemed to go quiet. “That’s called _pathetic_!”

Gerard cleared his throat. “Not to be petty, but nineteen isn’t _that_ pathetic-“

“Nope,” Ray agreed.

Gerard chuckled. “And that sounds like a great guy to give you syphilis,” he said, and Brendon snorted.

“It’s the only way I’m gonna get laid before I’m thirty! Nobody likes me-likes me, may as well get some from whoever’s willing.”

Spencer sighed. “If I set you up on a date will you _not_ have sex with a stranger?” he asked. “I’m sure I can find a guy and you guys can date and see where it goes. And maybe _not_ have sex on the first date,” he tried pointedly. “Your idea just doesn’t sound very smart to me.”

Gerard hummed. “Good idea. Besides, Mr. Date-Rape might end up being a psycho killer who wants to eat a pretty boy’s liver,” he said, and Brendon paled.

“I kinda like being whole,” he admitted and Spencer snorted.

“How did I end up with ‘escaped from Utah’ boy as a classmate and coworker?” he grumbled, and Brendon huffed.

“That hurts, Spencer Smith.” He pouted. “I’m totally not from Utah… much.”

Ray leaned closer to Gerard. “I’m confused,” he whispered loudly, and Gerard nodded.

“Me too.”

Spencer chuckled. “Brendon’s a like… ex-Mormon. You know, Utah, Mormons?” he tried, waving a hand.

Gerard hummed. “Are those the ones on bicycles or the ones with twelve wives?” he asked, and Brendon huffed.

“Not _necessarily_ either. My family is a one-wife kinda family and none of us were missionaries, so there were no bikes,” he said. “And I’m _not_ Mormon. My family is, but I’m not,” he argued.

Gerard hummed. “And I thought being Catholic was tough growing up,” he said, and Brendon scoffed.

“Dude, Catholics were higher on the ‘go straight to hell’ list then _I_ am!” Brendon snickered. “Their priests molest children,” he said. “That’s a ‘do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred dollars’ kinda going to hell,” he said with a serious nod.

Gerard hummed. “You know, I bet all religions have their downsides,” he said, and Spencer snorted.

“Ryan got kicked out of private catholic school for having sex with the geology teacher’s son and getting caught. Best part is, now he isn’t even gay.” He smirked. “So much for religion, huh?” he said, and Brendon snorted.

“I left the church on my own, but being gay wasn’t the only thing that got me kicked out by my parents,” he said, then eyed him. “I took my sister to a friend’s house and there was a music video on the TV when we walked through the living room that had a sex scene. And then we watched a movie with cursing in it and drank energy drinks and stayed up late,” he said. “That was all against my sister’s religion or seen as ‘bad behavior’ and was what lead to the fight that made me tell them I’m gay,” he pointed out.

Ray hummed. “When I told my mom I liked boys and girls, she just started trying to fix me up with guys as well,” he said, and Gerard grinned.

“Mine just asked Mikey to take me out with him to places where there would be available guys since the girls don’t like me either,” he said.

Spencer snorted. “Mine walked in on me and Shaun Bower making out in the basement on the pool table and just started leaving condoms all over the house, embarrassingly enough,” he said, shuddering. 

Brendon snorted. “At least boys wanted to make out with you,” he said. “I was even uglier in high school than I am now,” he said, and Spencer eyed him in disbelief. “Oh come on! Stop being mean,” he said, crossing his arms.

Spencer shrugged “Eh, You’re not _ugly_ … dorky and lame, sure! But you’ve got nice eyes and a good smile. You’re nice and thin, but you’ve got a great ass… lucky bitch,” he said, looking forlornly down at his own body. “It’s just the general air of ‘I’m a lame ass’ you can’t shake,” he said, shaking his head.

Brendon rolled his eyes. “Well you-“ He looked him over and pouted. “You, you… you’re fat and you look like a girl!” he cried, blushing and pouting as he turned and walked out front.

Ray eyed Spencer with a disappointed look. “Why are teenagers so bitchy?” he asked. He eyed Gerard. “Were you bitchy as a teenage girl?” he asked and Gerard glared.

Spencer snorted. “I’m not a teenage girl!” He shrugged. “Brendon’s just annoying. I can’t stand him.”

Gerard snorted. “Fuck that, I love that kid! He makes me feel old and pathetic, but eh, he’s funny and kinda like a giant puppy,” he said.

Ray nodded. “He loves cookies too!” he said brightly, then cringed. “Ew… I’m becoming my mother,” he said, looking horrified. Gerard just cackled evilly as he fixed some of the icing Ray had got out of line.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick stared at the laptop screen in horror as everybody crowded behind his desk. Even Bob, who never seemed to leave his back portion of the kitchens, was huddled in the corner, watching as Patrick turned even brighter shades of red and covered his eyes in shame.

On the screen, the video playing on a local news website was one with the greatest new gossip: “Local Millionaire Punches Reporter”. Pete had apparently been having lunch with his PR friend with the upcoming birthday and two clients when a local reporter stopped in to ask him a few questions. Pete’s questions and answers weren’t in the report on the video, but apparently somewhere along the line, the person at the next table over had pulled out their phone to video the shouts and caught a snarled ‘shut the fuck up!’ from Pete, who then punched the reporter so hard his chair toppled over backwards.

“Witnesses suggest the altercation was caused by questions in regards to Mr. Wentz’s surprising marriage earlier this year,” the woman was speaking, and Patrick let out a groan of agony.

“Kill me now. Some one. All of you. Just take turns bashing me with things until I die!” he begged dramatically.

Spencer smirked. “Gotta go bail your bitchy teenage girl out of the big house?” he asked, and Patrick glared at his sarcasm.

“Oh, I’m sure his lawyer has already bailed him out,” Patrick said, sighing. “Fuck.”

Ray put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Patrick. Your husband is an idiot,” he comforted, and Patrick chuckled.

Bob just nodded at him solemnly. “Wentz is a douche, but to be fair, he loves you and was just defending you,” he said, and Patrick laughed, earning a smile from the shy baker. Everybody else stared in shock at a real human reaction from the burly blond.

Brendon went wide eyed. “You have the prettiest eyes ever, Bob Bryar,” he said, then flung himself at the giant man, squishing into his side firmly. Bob looked alarm and tried wiggling him off, only to give desperate looks around when it failed to dislodge the teen.

Gerard distracted everybody else from the spectacle that was Brendon clinging to Bob like a demented sucker fish by suddenly shocking them all. “Wait, so that hot dude is ‘yay, thirty!’ Frank?” he asked, and everybody looked between the paused shot of a tiny, tattooed, pierced, gang-banger looking man who appeared to be about fifteen and Gerard with horrified looks.

Patrick just snorted. “What’s wrong with you Way’s? Your idiot brother once had a fling with my husband, who I’m ashamed to admit knowing half the time, and you find the probable ex-con ‘hot’,” he said, shaking his head. He paused and hummed. “Short and tattooed… your taste in men must be genetic,” he said, and everybody laughed.

After everybody but Gerard had left (Spencer was the only one finally able to pry Brendon off of Bob), Patrick finally let his head slam into the desk. Gerard snorted. “Considering divorce?” he tried, and Patrick sighed.

“Sadly, no.” Patrick shook his head. “I want to be so pissed but the dumbass manages to save his own ass, like he always does, by making every bad thing he does into a big defense of my honor. Ninety percent of the time he gets in a fight with someone, physical or verbal, it’s because he loves me and won’t put up with anybody saying shit about me and come on,” he sighed, shaking his head. “No matter what, you can’t muster all that anger you want to when your rage is being faced down with butterflies.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “You’re sickening. You would probably slap him and then kiss him all in one go,” he said, and Patrick shrugged.

“Eh, probably,” he admitted with a bashful smiled. He sighed. “Fuck, what the hell am I gonna do with that man?” he asked in exasperation as he watched Pete punch the reporter one more time. “He is infuriating but no matter what, he makes up for it just when I’m at my breaking point.”

Gerard hummed. “Probably the big, brown puppy eyes,” he said, nodding. Patrick just laughed.

“Yeah, probably.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When Patrick got home, he heard talking in the office and headed towards the door. “Dude,” he heard someone else’s voice speak. “When your husband hears about this shit, you’re _screwed_.”

Pete’s voice came in. “Oh man, I’m so fucked.”

Mikey’s voice chimed in. “Maybe he won’t have heard yet?”

“I really hope not-“

Patrick walked in, smiling overly calmly. “Hey Panda,” he said cheerily, walking over to where Pete was sitting at his desk. Pete smiled, looking relieved. Patrick spoke again as he got to a spot standing behind his chair. “Hey guys,” he said, waving, before leaning around Pete’s chair to drape his arms over Pete’s shoulders. “So Panda, I heard some interesting news today,” he started, smirking when Pete froze.

“Um… what’s that, Lunchbox?” he asked awkwardly, and Patrick snorted.

“My husband’s a fucking douche, that’s what,” he said nastily, and Pete cringed.

“So… I guess you heard-“ Pete started but Patrick cut him off, walking around the other side of the chair to cross his arms, glaring down at Pete.

“Oh no, I didn’t hear shit, I _saw_ a video of you punching someone in the face!” he said in a clearly pissed voice. “I’m sitting at work and I get an email with a link to a newscast and see where you punched a reporter. _In the face_!” he cried.

Pete cringed. “But- he was being mean-“

Patrick scoffed. “And when you’re being passed around for cigarettes in prison after being convicted of assault, you’ll really learn the meaning of ‘mean’!” he argued. “You know what they do to little guys like us in prison, Pete,” he said pointedly. Pete gulped visibly.

The small PR guy, Frank, spoke up. “You know… I could probably write a song about that.” Patrick just stared at him flatly. “Or not,” he said quickly, ducking his head.

Mikey looked up. “My brother’s ex was in prison once,” he mentioned in passing, like it was an everyday conversation. “You know, thinking about the topic at hand, I think he actually was a victim of prison rape as well,” he added, and they all turned to stare at him in shock. “What?” he asked, looking confused as to why they were all staring at him.

Patrick deflated. “I change my mind,” he said, turning to Pete. “I’m not married to the biggest idiot in the world,” he amended, and Pete giggled at the offended looks on Frank and Mikey’s faces. Patrick sighed and slid into Pete’s lap, draping his arms around his shoulders as he leaned down for a kiss. “You’re driving me insane, Peter,” he said, grabbing his hand for comfort.

Pete massaged Patrick’s hand, fingers, and wrist, earning a soft, happy sigh. “I know, I’m sorry, Patrick. I’ll try my best to not be insane anymore, okay?” He looked up and gave Patrick the biggest, most innocent, wide eyed look he possibly could and Patrick felt himself melting.

“You are the kryptonite to my bitchy side, Wentz,” he muttered, smiling with a sigh as he shook his head at himself.

Pete grinned, sliding his arms around Patrick’s middle. “You wouldn’t be you without your bitchy side,” he said, then smirked, leaning up to press a tiny kiss to his lips. “ _Wentz_.” Patrick smiled at how happy Pete looked every time he brought up their marriage. He knew Pete got so angry at people because he felt like he was the luckiest person in the world and couldn’t stand other people not agreeing. Pete Wentz liked to be right and he _knew_ his husband was the best and nobody else’s opinion counted.

“Aww… they’re so cute!” Patrick was torn from his thoughts at the sound of Frank’s voice. “Being divorced sucks,” he added in a harsh voice.

Patrick turned around. “Shit, you’re divorced?” he asked, and Frank nodded.

“Yeah, apparently, your wife doesn’t really like to stay your wife when she finds out you’re gay,” he said, shrugging innocently. “What can you do?”

Patrick laughed. “No, I’d imagine she’d have an issue with that.”

Pete hummed. “Patrick, you should know something,” he said in a serious tone, holding his waist as he looked up at him. “I’m gay,” he said in a heavy voice.

Patrick snorted. “Oh God, I’m so shocked,” he said in a playfully flat voice. “Our same-sex marriage has all been a sham-“ he pretended to look surprised. “Oh wait, that means I’m gay too,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

Pete grinned, hugging him. “Great! We can be gay together then. Alas, our marriage is saved!” he said happily, and Patrick smiled reluctantly.

“Alright, I really am still pissed at you, you know?” he said, and Pete nodded solemnly. “Good, just because I love you doesn’t mean you’re forgiven for being a douche,” he said, pecking Pete’s lips as he stood up. “You two stop being a bad influence on my husband,” he joked, trailing his hand along Pete’s shoulder as he turned and walked out.

As he walked upstairs, he heard Pete’s voice from the room he had just left. “Man, I love my life, dude.” Patrick just smiled, shaking his head and thinking he agreed.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick looked up when the door opened and Brendon came into the kitchen to start his shift. “Hey, Brendon,” he said, and Ray looked up.

“How was the date?” he asked, going back to frosting his cake.

Gerard’s head popped up from the other side, sugar mold in hand. “Oh yeah, Spencer set you up on a date last night, didn’t he?” he asked brightly.

Brendon just sighed. “Still a virgin,” he said, letting out an exaggerated harrumph as he sat down his bag in the corner.

Patrick blinked. “Um… thanks for letting me know?” he tried, confused as to what he should say to that.

Gerard snorted. “Brendon was gonna go to a party with a dude who was basically hoping to get Brendon drunk and have sex with him, but Spencer convinced him he didn’t want syphilis and set him up with a friend and apparently, that didn’t lead to sex either,” he said.

Brendon pouted. “The whole date sucked.” He sighed. “I’ve never been on a date and the first one I go on is a blind date that _blows_ ,” he said, shaking his head.

Ray frowned. “Awww, what went wrong?” he asked, and Brendon looked up, bright pink.

“Ten minutes into dinner, he left to go to the bathroom and never came back,” he said, looking forlorn.

Patrick raised an eyebrow as Ray and Gerard both cringed, looking at each other. “Um… why are we trying to get the barely legal teenager laid?” he asked, looking confused.

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m not trying to get him laid, Spencer is, but the poor kid is nineteen and never went on a date before, dude. I was the worst kind of outcast and I still went to the skating rink with Susie Miller in the ninth grade. My mom drove us, which was really awkward, but still… _I_ had at least one date younger than him and everybody thought I was gonna blow up the school,” he said pointedly.

Brendon groaned. “I was a band geek with braces and glasses, Gerard. At least you had the ‘I’m so bad ass I’m gonna kill us all’ appeal… besides, I thought everybody from New Jersey killed people?” he tried, and Ray just snorted, shaking his head. 

Patrick snorted. “I never had braces, but I was a band geek with glasses who never grew past five-four with the last name Stump, and I did alright for myself,” he said, shrugging. “I mean, I wasn’t super popular for obvious reasons, but I had some friends and I was like… fifteen before I had my first kiss, but it wasn’t like I was a social leper.”

Brendon just gave them a depressed look. “My first kiss was about six months ago and only because I met Spencer at his and Ryan’s dorm, Ryan’s friend was high and just grabbed me and made out with me before I could get away,” he admitted, looking thoroughly dejected.

Patrick, Gerard, and Ray all cringed. “Dude… this is insane,” Patrick said, and Gerard nodded. “I say this without any sexual harassment lawsuit intended, but the kid’s hot, why is he in this situation?” he asked, and Ray rolled his eyes.

“Young people in the gay scene are viciously judgmental?” he tried, and Patrick chuckled.

“Well, I won’t say being fat and short got me much action in college as a bisexual guy, but it can’t be THAT bad!” he tried. “Brendon, have you tried asking dating advice from some of your friends?” he asked.

Brendon nodded, looking down sheepishly. “Well, I don’t really have friends, but I asked Spencer and Ryan.” He sighed dramatically. “Spencer said to give up and accept dying alone. Ryan told me to not say anything to someone until I’m naked,” he said, and Patrick rolled his eyes.

“Those two are bitches,” he commented, then smiled. “Look, as your boss I can’t legally and in good standing give you dating advice without risking lawsuit, but just be yourself and if guys don’t like that, they just won’t. But somebody someday will,” he said. “Hell, look at me! First time I ever met Pete, I shouted insults at him for ruining a recording session and for some reason, after a shitty first impression, he saw something he liked,” he said, shrugging.

Ray made a face. “Well… to be honest, you aren’t a good example,” he said, and Gerard nodded when Patrick looked confused.

“Yeah,” Gerard started. “Your husband is a nut bar,” he said, and Patrick snorted. “Look, Brendon, some people got it, some people don’t.” He shook his head sadly. “Look at me and Ray, we’re both going to die alone-“

Ray huffed. “Hey!”

Gerard continued, flapping a hand at Ray. “Maybe you’re destined to die alone too, but at least then you aren’t dying of an STD,” he said, and Brendon just stared wide eyed.

“Gee, thanks. I’m more depressed now… I think I’ll just go kill myself while I’m still young and beautiful,” he said, glaring as he went into the back to get the measuring cups for his first batch of pastries.

Patrick snickered and shook his head as Ray turned to Gerard. “You know… maybe we aren’t the best motivational speakers,” he said, and Gerard nodded, humming as he fixed a piece of the mold he was working on. 

“Hey Patrick,” Gerard asked, and Patrick looked up. “Were you really unpopular?” he asked, and Patrick nodded. “Huh… you’re hot, I’d have thought popular,” he said, and Patrick rolled his eyes.

“I have actually lost weight since college and having access to expensive clothes helps,” he said, smiling jokingly. “I don’t know, I just get along with people or I don’t, you know?” he said. “I mean, I wasn’t that lucky, I ended up being a freshman in college before I finally got laid, but I did get a few dates in high school,” he said, shrugging as he walked out.

Gerard and Ray worked in silence for a bit before Ray turned to Gerard. “Were you getting action freshman year of college?” he asked curiously, and Gerard scoffed.

“Fuck no, I was like… fucking twenty-five, dude. It was pathetic. I didn’t get any until after I’d lost all the weight and started dating He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named,” he said, and Ray laughed.

“Good, I’m not alone,” he said, and then cringed. “Really, _he_ was your first?” he asked, and Gerard nodded solemnly. “Ew.”

Gerard smirked. “What about you?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Ray snorted. “Well, I wasn’t twenty-five, I was twenty-one, but it was the first actual girlfriend I’d ever had. Remember the redhead?” he tried, and Gerard nodded.

“Yeah, I kinda do,” he said, cringing. “Memories aren’t so great for that time though.” They were quiet for a moment and Gerard shook his head. “But we were ugly, fat, usually wasted, and played with Pokémon cards, Brendon’s hot, thin, claims he barfs when he tries to drink, is mostly smart, and likes things that are actually semi-popular… what the fuck?” he asked, and Ray shrugged.

“I don’t get it either,” he said, and Gerard just shook his head. “Hell, you turned out hot at least, I’m still fat and ugly,” he muttered.

Gerard snorted and went to say something, only to grin when he saw Bryar stirring a bowl of batter suspiciously slow and still, clearly listening in on their conversation. “Hey Bob, who was your first?” he called with a grin, holding up a finger to Ray as they waited for an answer from the man who rarely said anything.

“Your mom.” 

Ray burst out laughing at the shocked look on Gerard’s face at Bob’s reply.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick looked up as he heard the door open and the bell ring. “Hey, welcome to Sugar-“ He rolled his eyes when he saw Pete coming in, clearly off work as he was in jeans and a hoodie. “I thought you had some stuff today?” he asked, leaning over the counter for a kiss when Pete walked up.

“Eh, I said ‘to hell with it’ because I’m the boss and I’m allowed,” he said with a smile. “Also, cause Frank’s coming in to see the new designs I had your boy add to his birthday cake plan.

Patrick snorted. “I thought you were in charge of his cake?” he asked, and Pete smiled.

“Frank wanted to adjust so that the top tier with his name, where Gerard’s sketches had tombstones, is jack-o’-lanterns. Stuff like that. A boy only turns thirty once,” he joked, and Patrick laughed.

The door opened and Frank came in. Ryan and Spencer, who were both at the counter down some, turned to stare. “Whoa,” Ryan muttered, looking at the guy’s outfit.

Patrick laughed as Frank walked over, wearing tight jeans and a high-lighter pink tee-shirt proclaiming ‘I Bite Vampires’. “Interesting. I thought vampires bite you?” he joked, and Frank smiled brightly.

“Fuck that, I’m a biter and any vampire I meet is going to fuck me or I won’t let him eat me,” he said, and Patrick rolled his eyes as Pete let out one of his obnoxious laughs that everybody else hated.

“So, Lunchbox, where’s your cake maker dude? Frank here has some additions he wanted made,” he said, and Frank nodded, holding up a list.

Patrick chuckled. “You know, Pete, we do have to cover the cost of this, so keep in mind you’re paying for this monstrosity,” he said, and Pete shrugged.

“Why have money if I can’t use it to make people happy?” he asked, and Patrick heard Ryan and Spencer both gasp.

“Um, to buy tons of shoes?” Spencer tried, looking offended.

Ryan snorted. “To pay for Spencer’s shoe-habit so he doesn’t get put in shoe-shopping rehab,” he said, and Spencer glared with his patented ‘I will kill you, Ryan, I swear to God’ look.

Pete smiled, laughing. “Don’t worry, if he gets put in rehab, I’ll sponsor his stay,” he said solemnly, and Patrick snorted.

“Pete, I’m not saying don’t make Frank’s birthday great, but don’t start getting the idea to throw giant parties for every employee you have. We’ve got money but do remember we do have an expensive house, we have cars pick us up and take us everywhere, and we have ridiculous amounts of bills. Eventually, thousand dollar cakes adds up to millions of dollars, especially when you have hundreds of employees,” he said, and Pete grinned.

“Patrick, we’re fine. And if we ever do go broke, I’ll find us the best cardboard box down by the railroad,” he promised, and Patrick chuckled.

“Well, I’ll give you a discount on the cake and cupcakes and cookies for Frank’s birthday, but you’re paying for it in other ways,” he said, leaning over for another kiss.

Pete smirked. “I’ll gladly pay in those ‘ways’,” he said, and Ryan looked disturbed.

“Ew. Spencer make it stop!” he whined, shaking his head.

Patrick snorted. “Alright, come on, we’ll go talk to Gerard and stop scaring my employees,” he said, leading Pete and Frank into the back. They passed Ray, who was letting Brendon have the useless cookies of the batch he was decorating, and went into the office.

Gerard didn’t even look up as he started talking, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Patrick, can I please take a break? I know I usually don’t ask for one, but I need a smoke break so bad I’d probably kill someone for the nicotine on their fingertips and I’ll never last until my lunch break.”

“Gerard,” Patrick sighed, and Gerard erased something violently.

“I’m serious- I’d offer to blow you for a break if I thought you’d take me up on the offer-“

“GERARD!” Patrick squawked, going bright red and Pete glared at Gerard.

Gerard looked up and froze, spots of pink appearing on his pale cheeks. “Um, hi Patrick’s husband,” he said, cringing visibly.

“You,” Pete said, pointing at him. “Don’t you dare offer sexual favors to my Patrick,” he said, possessively pressing into Patrick’s side.

Gerard looked past Pete and saw the vibrant pink shirt on Frank. “Who the fuck burned all your other clothes to make you wear _that_?!” he asked, and Frank frowned, looking down at his shirt.

“I love this shirt,” he said, shrugging. “You could use some color yourself, you know?” he said, and Gerard shrugged, looking down at his black clothes.

“I’m wearing blue socks,” he said with a straight face. He blew his bangs out of his face. “What’s up, Patrick?” he asked.

Patrick snickered. “This is the guy, as you probably noticed, your favorite cake design is for, he has some specifics he wants to work out,” he said, and Gerard eyed Frank skeptically.

“Oh yeah, you don’t like my work?” he asked, and Frank smiled brightly.

“Are you kidding?!? It’s amazing! I just wanted to know if you could do few little things. Like… like just minor details, I love the design, it’s epic,” he said in a rush. “You’re the designer? Sorry about the color remark then,” he said, quickly, walking closer. 

Patrick chuckled. “Deal with that then you can go smoke,” he said, and Gerard saluted him mockingly before turning to speak to Frank, who was gushing suddenly.

Pete snickered. “If we leave, Gerard, do you promise not to eat Frank for the nicotine on his fingers?” he teased, and Gerard eyed Frank, but shook his head.

“Nah, but fair warning, dude, if I like… start sniffing your hair, I’m not being as creepy as it seems, I’m just having a hardcore nic fit,” he said with a shy smile, and Frank nodded with a grin.

“I’ll make this quick then,” he said, showing Gerard his list of changes.

Patrick smiled as he and Pete walked back out. “Ray, stop providing sugar to the sugar addict,” he said, and Brendon gave him an apologetic smile while Ray simply shrugged.

“It’s the eyes, Patrick. I can’t help it!” Ray defended. “He has giant puppy eyes and I love puppies!” he said, and Pete smiled.

“Yeah Patrick, Brendon has giant puppy eyes,” he said, smirking at him.

Patrick glared. “Don’t you dare teach him to use his puppy eyes for evil like you use yours,” he threatened, poking Pete’s hip.

Brendon just smiled. “Oh hey, Patrick! Did Spencer complain to you yet that you need to fire me?” he asked, and Patrick eyed him curiously.

“No… why are you smiling about that?” he asked.

Brendon rolled his eyes. “Cause I want to gloat when you tell him no. He says he hates having to commute with me and since we have class together and work together, he can’t get away from me unless you fire me,” he said. 

Pete snorted. “Bitchy teenagers?” he asked, and Patrick nodded. “You know, you talk good about this crew but so far they all seem insane,” he commented.

Patrick hummed, eying Pete. “Wonder where I ever got so comfortable with crazy people?” he asked, smiling affectionately at Pete, who just rolled his eyes.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick felt his insides soar at the way Pete’s eyes lit up when he spotted him walking over. He stood up when Patrick got to the table outside the café where they were meeting for lunch. “Patrick!” he said brightly, like he wasn’t expecting him to be there. He caught him in a small kiss as soon as he was close enough to grab, then pulled out his chair for him as he sat down.

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Pete, you don’t have to be all gentlemanly just for lunch,” he teased and Pete shrugged, smiling.

“Well, we don’t have lunch together often,” he said, and Patrick gave him a disbelieving look. Pete sighed. “Alright, I have news that I love but you’re going to hate,” he said, and Patrick groaned preemptively.

“Peter-“

Pete smiled brightly. “We’ve got the launch date for Clandestine figured for mid-November and we’re throwing a super massive bash complete with a runway session for the first line!” he said excitedly.

Patrick beamed. “Pete, that’s great! Why would I hate that?” he asked, and Pete bit his lip.

“The launch party is going to be held in the upstairs of your building,” he said, and Patrick glared.

“What?!”

Pete nodded weakly. “And all the two weeks before, there will be workers going up and doing construction,” he added and Patrick groaned. “I’m sorry! Our house isn’t big enough for this bash and neither is the label building or the shop building!”

“You couldn’t just rent a location?!” Patrick asked, putting his hand over his eyes. “Pete, the sounds of decorators and workers traipsing all around upstairs is going to be killer in my shop, you know that, right? The ceilings and floors are like paper!”

Pete sighed. “I know, but we had that giant space available and it’s so much easier to just-“

‘Turn the second floor of my bakery into a fucking nightclub?!” Patrick asked, and Pete cringed, but then frowned, slowly morphing into his ‘I have an idea!’ face. Patrick just glared. “No.”

Pete smiled. “But think! We could keep to the theme and call it ‘Everything Nice’!” he said, and Patrick glared harder. Pete sighed. “Okay, no nightclubs above your bakery,” he agreed, and Patrick sighed, shaking his head in amusement at how dejected Pete looked.

“If the clothing line goes well, you can look into locations _away_ from my bakery for your nightclub,” he allowed, and Pete smiled brightly.

“Yay! I couldn’t keep that name, it only works in conjunction with Sugar & Spice, but I really see potential here, Patrick,” he said, and Patrick smiled as he watched Pete daydream.

“You are the most surprising businessman, Pete Wentz, that’s for damn sure,” he said, shaking his head as he sighed. 

Pete shrugged. “Nothing’s surprising when I have the perfect muse,” he said, and Patrick snorted. “No really,” Pete reached over and took Patrick’s hand in his across the tabletop. “Sure I had a successful label before I met you, but I didn’t have any dreams of expansion or new business ventures, or anything like that until I met you and saw how much fire and ambition you had… it changed something in me,” he said with a small smile.

Patrick sighed, lacing their fingers together. “You are the cause of bipolar disorder,” he said, and Pete frowned.

“Well… that made no sense,” he said, and Patrick laughed.

“Yes it does. You can piss me off so bad I’m ready to scream and then have me completely enamored at the exact same time,” he said, and Pete smirked.

“Eh, that’s just my charm,” he joked, and Patrick smiled, shaking his head as he leaned across the small table to kiss Pete quickly.

“You are insane, Pete Wentz.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When Patrick returned from lunch with Pete, he couldn’t help but be confused. He saw Ryan and Spencer both glowering off into the corner from the spot behind the cash register. He walked over and followed their gaze, noticing Brendon standing with a girl at the cookie display for Halloween. “Why are we looking at Brendon?” he asked, and they both huffed in unison. “Okay, that was weird,” he noted, and Spencer grumbled.

Ryan sighed. “Brendon has to die,” he said, and Spencer nodded.

“That bitch must die- wait what?” he looked at Ryan in confusion. “Brendon? No, that bitch shoving her boobs at him needs to die,” he said.

Ryan scoffed. “What?! Not even. Brendon’s totally flirting with Kate. That whore. He won’t stop staring at her boobs-“

“She’s shoving them in his face!” Spencer argued. “Brendon’s just a confused kid and that witch is poisoning him with her giant boobs!”

Patrick hummed. “So, let me get this straight… you hate Brendon but hate a girl hitting on him even worse,” he said, and Spencer made an awkward squeak. “And you, Ryan, are jealous because he’s gayer than Disney On Ice and the hot chick is still hitting on him, not you?” he finished.

Ryan glared. “Yes.” 

Spencer scoffed. “I am not attracted to Brendon,” he defended and Patrick smirked.

“Never said you were,” he said, winking as he turned to walk off, leaving a bright red Spencer Smith gaping in horror.

Patrick started into the back, raising an eyebrow at Ray’s flour covered face as he worked on ridiculously tiny flowery cookies with dramatically narrowed eyes, clearly concentrating hard.

This scene was only made funnier by Bob peeking around the cooling racks he was cleaning to stare at Ray’s ass as he bent over the table. Patrick snorted. He walked silently to his office and opened the door. “Seriously,” he began as he walked in. “Is everybody in this shop ridiculously mooning over everybody else?!” he said in annoyance, only to look up and spot a dreamy eyed Gerard gazing at the back of Frank Iero’s head as he flipped through Gerard’s sketchbook. “Apparently so,” he answered himself, rolling his eyes.

Gerard and Frank both looked up. “Oh, hey Patrick! Frank came to look at some of my older sketches and like… the finished results to see how they looked in real form,” he said brightly.

Frank nodded. “You’ve got a great crew here, dude. You and Ray make Gee’s designs come alive?” he asked, and Gerard blushed at the nickname.

Patrick smirked. “‘Gee’?” he teased, and Frank chuckled.

“Mikey calls him that all the time so I kinda picked up on it and sorta can’t stop,” he admitted. 

Patrick nodded. “Yeah, me and Ray do the cakes together but it’s a group effort on some other stuff. Brendon always helps Ray with cupcakes, for example,” he said. He nodded at Gerard. “Gerard does the fancier stuff, like molded sugar people and stuff.”

Frank smiled back at Gerard. “Kick ass,” he said, and Gerard shrugged. “No really, dude, do you do normal art?” he asked, and Gerard nodded.

“Well…not normal,” he said with a sheepish shrug. “But like… cartoonish sorta? Like… monsters and zombies and shit and like… super heroes.” He shrugged, smiling. “Sometimes both.”

Patrick rolled his eyes at the gleam in Gerard’s eyes when Frank looked at him like he was the coolest thing around. “No sex in this office,” he demanded, and Gerard turned bright red, making inane spluttery squeaks.

Frank just looked confused. “What?” he asked. “Why would there be sex in the office?” he asked, not noticing how badly Gerard appeared to be willing the floor to open up and swallow him.

Patrick snickered. “Just remember that warning for later,” he said as he grabbed his clipboard and went to check on the Sanderson order with Brendon.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Gerard was working on a drawing in his non-work notebook, smiling as he made Frank’s cartoon vampire fangs pointy, when Patrick let out a loud curse.

“Son of a bitch!” Gerard looked up and saw Patrick slamming his hand down on his desk.

“Patrick?” he asked in concern. “You okay?”

Patrick snorted, shaking his head. “Oh yeah, fucking grand!” He turned the laptop around and Gerard leaned forward so he could read the headline, even if the smaller print was too small to read.

“Ew.” Gerard read the headline aloud. “‘Trouble in Paradise: Record Company Magnate Marriage on the Rocks?’…” Gerard looked up. “Um… is it?” he asked, and Patrick snorted.

“No!” he scoffed. “That’s the problem. This photo?” He enlarged the image for Gerard to see more clearly. “It was taken at lunch the other day when Pete told me about the party upstairs and all the workers coming in a few weeks.” Gerard examined Patrick clearly shouting and Pete looking annoyed. “Two minutes later we were fucking holding hands!” Patrick stood up, groaning as he paced. “People just- when the actual celebrities are all being good, they decide to pick on the easiest targets among the local rich people and it _always_ is easy to pick on the eccentric gay guy because it clearly causes the most impact.” Patrick shook his head, cursing. “I’m sick of this shit.”

Gerard sighed. “Patrick, it’s wrong, and it sucks, I agree, but you know what you were getting into by marrying Pete-“

Patrick waved a hand. “No, no, I don’t give a shit what they say about me,” he said, and Gerard frowned.

“Then… why are you so pissed?” he asked softly.

Patrick growled. “Because it hurts Pete!” he cried angrily. “They upset my husband every fucking day. They do this shit because they know he gets thrown off. Pete gives them the reaction they want. They can see him suffering and see how bad it hurts him!” he cried. He shook his head. “It’s personal then, Gerard. It’s _personal_ when they fucking hurt my husband,” he spat.

Gerard just smiled sadly. “And therein lays the problem. They hurt you by hurting him.” Patrick just sat down heavily, scrubbing his palms over his eyes. “Patrick, you know what you can do?” he said, and Patrick sighed heavily.

“What, Gerard? What can I possibly do to make this not suck so badly?” he asked. “You know Pete’s going to wonder if it’s not true, right? He’ll wonder if maybe something is up with our marriage just because they keep pointing it out.”

Gerard smiled. “Go home, wait for Pete, and prove them wrong,” he said simply.

Patrick eyed him curiously. “What?” he asked in confusion.

Gerard snorted. “Dude, I’m not exactly the love master here, but if ever there was somebody I met that loved somebody else, it’s you dude. That guy sorta owns your soul most days. Sure, the other ones you want to kick the shit out of him,” Patrick chuckled and Gerard smirked. “But you are about the only person I’ve ever seen love another human unconditionally that wasn’t a parent, you know? Pete will probably be upset like you said, so go home and wait for him and when he gets there, prove to him that they’re wrong and you guys are good to go.”

Patrick smiled widely. “You’re genius, dude,” he admitted, sighing. “Well fuck, if I’m going to try and beat Pete home, I better go,” he said, going to pack up his stuff. “He never works past four or so before he goes home.”

Gerard smiled. “Want to give the shop a once over before you head out?” he teased.

Patrick snorted. “Ray got in the shipment to start preparing everything for Frank’s cake if you want to go be all stalker and recheck to make sure everything’s in for your designs,” he said, and Gerard lit up. “Jesus Christ, you’re obsessed,” he said.

Gerard just shrugged and smiled. “He’s an interesting guy, don’t you think?” he said, and Patrick just snorted again, beginning to do a great impersonation of an agitated animal.

“Sure, Gee, sure,” he said as he grabbed his bag in order to go. “Look out for the shop for me?” he said, and Gerard nodded.

“Yeah, I got it, just go be a good husband,” he teased, and Patrick smiled, even if his cheeks were a little pink.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When Patrick got home, he walked through the dark house. “Pete?” he called curiously, starting up the stairs. “Pete, you here?” he called. He heard nothing so he walked down the hallway to the bedroom. He walked in and put his bag down, frowning when he noticed Pete’s jacket laying across the bed. “Peter?” he called, looking into the bathroom and seeing it empty. He walked back out, heading downstairs again. He looked in the kitchen and saw that there was an empty bottle on the counter, so someone had been home to drink the last of the grape soda. He passed the dark living room and didn’t see anybody. He headed into the office and, at first, thought it was empty.

However, he heard a click and turned to see Pete curled up in the corner, between the end of the couch and the window, back against the wall, with his laptop in his lap as he sat on the floor. “Pete?” he asked, and Pete looked up.

“Why are you home?” he asked hoarsely. “Everything okay?” he asked.

Patrick shook his head. “Not really,” he said, and Pete nodded.

“So they’re right,” he said softly, letting his head fall back against the wall with a thunk. He looked up at Patrick as he walked closer. “Four month’s has to be a record, huh?”

Patrick sighed. “Pete, no,” he started, kneeling down in front of him. “The problem isn’t with us,” he said, reaching out to take the computer from Pete, who looked reluctant. “The problem is that assholes keep saying shit and it hurts you and makes you doubt us.”

Pete snorted. “Who are we kidding? How many times have you hated this lifestyle? How often do you despise having to do all the shit being married to me means? Like the events and the gossip and the fucking photographers…” He shrugged weakly. “Who were we fooling? You were going to leave me in May. For good. You only stopped because I’m so damn persistent.”

Patrick sighed, feeling anger veiled in pain as he watched how upset Pete looked. “Alright, look, I was hoping I’d be here before you got this far into your head,” he said, then reached out to put his hands on either side of Pete’s face. “Look at me, Pete,” he said, and Pete looked into his eyes. “These assholes only aim to hurt us. They say shit that isn’t true just to make you afraid because it manipulates you.” He leaned closer. “And hurting you is the one thing that hurts me more than anything in the world, okay?” he said with a small, sad smile. “We are not falling out, Peter. We’re not ‘on the rocks’ as they say. We’re _fine_ and they just know it’ll stir shit up to say we’re not-“

“All we do is fight, Patrick!” Pete argued, shaking his head. “What kind of couple fights so much-“

“One that has a stubborn redhead as half of it!” Patrick exclaimed. “Pete, come on, I’m a fucking short, redhead. It makes sense I’ll be bitchy! And you are an annoying shit, so you know how to get under my skin!”

Pete just sighed. “So we are fucked-“

Patrick cut him off, by putting his hand over Pete’s mouth. “You are _my_ annoying shit,” he said firmly. “You are my husband and they don’t get to decide when or how we have a fall out. People can talk whatever shit they want, I don’t give a damn.”

Pete sighed weakly. “But we’re always at each other, Patrick. I thought it would get better, but they’re _right_!”

Patrick shook his head. “They’re wrong,” he said simply. “And yes, we’re always at each other, but that’s because we’re two stubborn, hardheaded, impatient men with the weight of the world on our shoulders. We’re gonna fight and we’re gonna have days when everything seems like it’s going wrong,” he said, then shook his head again. “But then there are days where everything is perfect,” he said softly. “Where you wake up and you know that today is going to be a day where every word is conveyed perfectly, every cookie is gonna come out baked to perfection, and every singer will magically not suck so bad,” he said, and Pete gave him a fragile look.

“Why do there seem to be so many of the first and not many of the second?” he asked weakly. He looked up. “Tell me that, Patrick?”

Patrick smiled what he hoped was a comforting smile, stroking his thumbs along Pete’s cheeks. “Because then the good days wouldn’t be so special, would they?” he asked. He leaned in. “One thing is for sure and that’s this,” he whispered, then closed the gap between them, pressing a lingering kiss to Pete’s lips. Pete frowned when Patrick pulled away. “Every single one of them, good days and bad days-“ Patrick smiled sweetly. “I love you more than anything else in this world.”

Pete smiled and looked at Patrick with nothing but affection in his features. “I love you more than that even,” he said, pulling Patrick close as he kissed him.

Patrick hummed against Pete’s lips and stroked his cheek. “Alright, crisis averted? Can we get off this floor now? Cause I still have some proving we’re a happily married couple left to do and this floor isn’t the best place for it,” he teased and Pete perked up.

“Really now?” he asked, and Patrick smirked, standing up to offer Pete a hand.

“Oh yeah, I can think of many places more suited.” He smirked. “We’ve got a perfectly good, giant bed big enough for six of us, for instance,” he said, winking as he turned to walk out, looking back at the doorway to see Pete scrambling to put his things on the desk. “Coming?”

Pete grinned, rushing over to wrap him up in his arms. “You have the best ideas, I know why I married you!” he said, kissing Patrick sloppily.

Patrick snickered. “For sex? You didn’t really have to marry me for that,” he teased and Pete growled, slapping him on the ass.

“Get up those stairs, sexy pants,” he said, and Patrick grinned, pecking his lips before turning to run up the stairs with Pete hot on his heels.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Gerard came out front when the three college students got in. “Hey, Patrick’s not here today, but he said to hand this to Spencer and for you to make sure it all gets done,” he said, holding out a sheet of paper.

Brendon frowned. “Is Patrick okay?” he asked, going to look over Spencer’s shoulder, standing on his tippy toes to see.

Gerard smirked. “Oh yeah, Mikey says Pete canceled all his work today too,” he said, winking.

Brendon looked confused and Ryan rolled his eyes. “They’re probably having lots and lots of sex,” he said, and Brendon flushed.

“Ooooh… ew,” he said, making a face as he stared off into space.

Spencer chuckled, but then froze. “Wait… EW!” he agreed. “They’re _old_! Can old people have sex all day?!?” he asked, and Gerard glared.

“Oh fuck off, Patrick’s young and Pete’s younger than me!” He shook his head. “You three are more judgmental than fucking drag queens, and those bitches are rude,” he said, waving a finger. “I know some girls, right? Mikey’s friends with these three queens who all call ME a tranny, and you guys are even meaner,” he said, huffing as he walked back into the kitchens.

Brendon snorted. “Don’t worry, Gerard, if there are any trannys here, it’s Ryan and Spencer,” he called, only to pale when he turned back to see twin ‘don’t make me kill you’ faces turned on him. “Eep!” he squeaked, rushing into the back before he caught on fire.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon smirked over the batter he was mixing as he watched Ray explaining the cake they were starting to Bob. “So it’s like this marble, you see?” Ray asked, and Bob nodded. Brendon smirked when he watched Bob stepping minutely closer to Ray’s back as he showed him something on the paper. Brendon could see Bob staring vacantly at the side of Ray’s head and he knew he didn’t hear a word Ray was telling him.

Brendon smirked and waited until Bob nodded emphatically then stood as Ray walked away. He walked over and smirked. “Here, I’ll explain what you just missed cause you were too busy being a giant girl,” he said, and Bob ducked his head.

“Tell anybody and you die,” he said gruffly and Brendon just giggled.

“Don’t worry, I think it’s cute,” he said, poking him in the side as he got together all the instructions Ray had for Bob. “You should go for it,” he encouraged. “Ray’s single, old, and desperate,” he said, nodding, and Bob glowered. “What?! You have pretty eyes and he’s old! What’s not to like?!?” he said innocently.

Bob snorted. “Fucking teenagers,” he muttered. “So how do the tiers go?” he asked, and Brendon showed him.

Bob was looking at Gerard’s sketches and Brendon sighed. “Really, Bob Bryar. Just talk to Ray. He’s sweet, he won’t turn you down, I know it!” he said brightly.

Bob just grumbled, though he looked less annoyed than before. “How do I… you know… talk to the dude?” he asked with a slight pink tinge to his cheeks. “I mean… I’m the creepy dude who hides in the back of the kitchens and peeks through the cooling shelves,” he admitted, deflating.

Brendon snorted. “The hell if I know, you’re screwed if you need help from me. I’m a fucking _failure_ at dating and boys,” he said, and Bob just glared. “What?” he asked innocently.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
They day before Frank’s party, everybody was stressing to the max. The workers had started upstairs and were working hard to prepare for the launch of Clandestine Clothing, which was to be in just a few weeks, and the loud bangs from upstairs combined with the mess of disorganization in the kitchen was killing Patrick. “Look, Gerard, I’ll pay you to just shut up about two tiny spots of frosting out of place and just fucking work harder! The whole pagan ritual still has to be molded!” he argued.

“I’m trying!” Gerard whined, huffing, blowing his bangs out of his face. They just fell back into place. “Someone fix my hair, please?!” he begged.

Brendon sighed, wiping off his hands. “Here, I’m clean,” he said, walking over to pull the bandana from around Gerard’s neck to use to tie his hair back. “There you go!” he said, then went to wash his hands and go back to work on the cupcake papers.

“Patrick!” Ryan called. “Your husband is here asking about dinner tonight-“

Patrick groaned. “Tell Peter to kiss my ass, I’m working. If he wants to talk to me, he can talk when I’m done and I call him,” he informed Ryan. “It’s his party tomorrow night that has me so stressed.”

Ryan smirked. “If I tell him that, you know he’ll say something dirty and make me repeat it, right?” he asked, and Patrick sighed.

“Alright, fine, I’ll go speak with him.” Patrick put down the spatula he was using and walked out front. He spotted Pete, who looked up and smiled.

“Well, don’t you look sexy,” he said, leaning over the counter to eye Patrick’s splattered apron, the frosting on his cheek, and the flour all over his nose. “You know, it has to be a mark of how much I love you and how big of a sap I am that you honestly look so more gorgeous all messy and sweaty and annoyed than anybody else in this shop,” he said, and Patrick sighed, deflating.

“You obviously know how to take me from ‘annoyed’ to ‘okay, maybe Pete doesn’t have to die’,” he said, and Pete smiled, closing his eyes as Patrick leaned across and granted him a small kiss. “Okay, really, I’m busy, what do you need to talk about?” he asked.

Pete smiled. “Well, we have dinner with my parents tonight and I wanted to make sure you remembered,” he said, and Patrick cringed. Pete sighed. “You didn’t.”

Patrick cringed. “It’s okay, I won’t be late, I’ll- I’ll get Spencer to stay late or something, I promise, I’ll make it,” he said, and Pete nodded.

“The car will be here to get you at seven, dinner is at eight. You can get dressed in the car,” he said, and Patrick nodded.

“Seriously, I’ll be there, Pete,” he said, and Pete nodded.

“Yeah, I know you will,” he said, and Patrick let him have one more small kiss before he left. “Be sure to wash your face before you leave,” he teased and Patrick blushed, waving as Pete left.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick sighed when they finally finished the cake. “Holy shit, I think it’s done,” he said, and Gerard beamed.

“Holy shit, Frank is going to love this!” he said, and Ray chuckled.

“You’re using it to get him to like you, so you better hope he does,” he said, and Gerard glared.

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

Brendon groaned. “Dude, shut up!” he whined. “Gerard, trust me, when Frank Iero see his cake, you will disappear and when we see you again four days later, you’ll probably be pregnant,” he said, and Gerard flushed under everybody’s laughs. “Ray, stop antagonizing Gerard about using a cake to flirt when you’re blind as hell to flirting as it is,” he said. “It’s fucking nine o’clock and Spencer and I have a test tomorrow morning. Can we please all just clean up, put everything away, and just leave?” he begged, and Spencer nodded.

Patrick stretched. “Damn straight. Even the work crew up there has gone home,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. “Fuck, after this party, we’ve got to deal with that party,” he said, nodding upstairs.

Spencer huffed. “After dealing with all this noise, we better get the leftover booze from that launch,” he said pointedly, and Patrick snorted.

“You’re underage, so no, you won’t,” he said, and Spencer made a face. “Although I think my husband is going to steal you and make you a model, so if you happen to steal some, I won’t see it,” he said, smiling.

Spencer gaped. “I can’t model clothes!” he cried quickly. He wrapped his arms around his middle. “I’m too fat!”

Patrick smirked. “Hey, he’s not hiring models, he’s using all of you. Well… okay, not Ray or Bob because he knows they can eat him,” he said, and both large men shook their heads, laughing. “The only way I got out of it is the fact I control whether or not he gets laid,” he said, snorting.

Ryan suddenly frowned. “Wait, what time is it?” he asked, and Patrick looked up.

“Didn’t he just say it’s nine- oh shit!” he cried, paling. “Oh shit, oh fuck, I’m dead,” he said, rushing to his office, diving for his phone. He picked it up and cringed when he saw four missed calls and a dozen or so texts. “Shit.”

Patrick rushed back out, tossing off his apron to grab his jacket. “Alright, I’ve got to go guys, I’m sorry but you guys clean up and lock up for me, okay?” he said. “I’m so late. I’m more than late. Pete’s gonna be so pissed,” he said, rushing out with his bag and jacket both hanging half off him as he opened the last text.

_Don’t bother coming to my parents’ house. I’ll just see you at home –Pete_

Patrick sighed as he walked to the train station. Pete always added an ‘xo’ on his texts. If he didn’t it meant he was pissed. Patrick felt sick because he hated to hurt Pete. He had honestly meant to go on time but he was so caught up in what they were doing he didn’t even think about it.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When Patrick got home, Pete was already in bed. The next morning he had gotten up early to get to work and finish the last of the things for the party that night so he still didn’t speak to Pete.

Patrick was expecting him to call all day but he never did. He spotted Pete with relief when they delivered the cake a few hours before the party was set to begin. “Pete,” he started, and Pete looked up from signing a sheet for the alcohol delivery.

“Oh is the cake and stuff here?” Pete asked, looking around. “Um, have them put it over there, next to the other food,” he said, and Patrick nodded.

“Pete, look-“

Pete turned away. “I’m busy, talk to me later,” he said, then just walked away. It stung. Patrick knew it was payback but it still stung to have his husband turn his back on him.

Patrick sighed and walked back out to the truck. “Alright,” he said, and Bob and Ray stood up, looking awkward standing beside a catering truck with tons of people walking around. “We’re setting the cake as the centerpiece of the food table,” he explained. “I’m gonna get Gerard and we’ll meet you inside to fix anything that falls over in the move,” he said, and they both nodded, getting the cake out of the truck carefully.

Patrick went inside with Gerard, heading through double doors to the place where the cake would be set so that they could make sure it was level, the table wasn’t going to break under the cake’s weight, and that the chances of the cake being smashed were minimal.

They were just straightening the tablecloth when Patrick spotted Frank wandering around. “Hey, isn’t it against usual party rules to be checking out the decorating for your own birthday party?” he asked, and Frank, smiled.

“Patrick! Gerard! Hi,” he said, walking over. “No, I’m just checking to see if everything’s great. I’m officially finished in PR here in a few days, you know? Once the Clandestine line is launched I’m a manager for that, aren’t I?” he said. 

Gerard smiled. “So, on to bigger and better things?” he asked and Frank smiled brightly, pretty much ignoring Patrick.

“Yep! Managing a clothing line basically means signing papers and saying ‘you do this’ and sitting on my butt to gain about twenty pounds while reading comic books all the time,” he said brightly.

Gerard chuckled. “Sweet, sounds a lot like my job, only drawing instead of signing,” he said, and Frank giggled, looking around him only to gape.

“Holy shit, you are amazing, Gerard Way,” he said, and Gerard followed his gaze to where Ray and Bob were coming over to place the cake on the table.

Gerard shrugged. “It’s a group effort,” he said dismissively. He ducked his head shyly. “Everybody helped a lot.”

Frank smiled at Gerard in wonder. “You’re incredible and talented and seriously awesome,” he said in a daze and Patrick watched curiously as Gerard turned pink and ducked his head.

“Really, it’s not- UMMPH!” Gerard was silenced as Frank leapt on him, kissing him hard. 

Patrick hummed, tilting his head as he watched Gerard flailing awkwardly in order to not fall over backwards under the weight of the small man currently attached to his face. He noticed Ray and Bob both staring and he nodded at the tangled men. “Didn’t see that coming,” he said, and Ray shook his head.

“Me neither,” he said, and Bob nodded in agreement. 

“Look, you guys can go. I’m going to try and talk to my husband again, but I’ll be leaving soon too I’m thinking.”

Ray smiled. “Okay,” he said. “Good luck.”

Patrick sighed. “Thanks, I’ll need it.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick went to Pete’s office and smiled when he saw him. “Hey Pete,” he said, and Pete looked up.

“What?”

Patrick frowned. “ _What_? I was hoping we could talk-“ he started but Pete stood up.

“Can’t, I’m too busy,” he said, walking past Patrick.

Patrick sighed. “Pete! I get it. You’re angry I let work get in the way and I’m sorry, but bitching and ignoring me isn’t going to help-“

Pete just walked out. “Sorry, no time.” Patrick just stared, watching as Pete walked away, ignoring him.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick faced tons of compliments for the cake and spent a lot of time chatting with his and Pete’s friends. He smirked every time he passed Gerard, who was being dragged around and shown off by Frank, who had claimed him and introduced him to people as ‘my Gerard, the genius behind my cake’. Apparently, according to Gerard’s brother, Frank had been gushing about Gerard since they met and seeing the cake in its finality had broken him and he decided he was in love with Gerard and needed to have his babies.

Patrick’s only thoughts were that it was really bad news when things like that didn’t faze him anymore. 

For the entirety of the party, he couldn’t get five minutes with Pete. When the party ended, Pete told Patrick he could go home and that Pete would be there whenever. Patrick had been too tired and upset to bother arguing so he simply went home. For several days, it seemed like Pete wasn’t there at all and Patrick really didn’t know how to handle it.

“It’s hard,” Patrick admitted to Gerard, when he asked him what was wrong. “It’s like he’s just not there. It’s ridiculous to feel like you haven’t seen someone in days when they sleep in the same bed as you.”

Gerard hummed. “What’s wrong? Is he still pissed about the parents thing?” he asked, and Patrick threw his arms up dramatically.

“I don’t know! I tried to get him to talk but he just-“ Patrick sighed. “He’s ignoring me. He is hurt and I know it’s something I did but there’s nothing I can do to fix it that I know of. I hate when he gets like this. He doesn’t shut me out often but when he does it really hurts because I don’t know how to deal with it. When he’s pissed, we fight it out. When he’s upset, I reassure him that it’s all going to be okay.” Patrick shook his head. “But when he shuts me out I can’t do anything. I have to just shut up, deal with it, and hope he finds his way out of his own head back to me.” Patrick bit his lip. “And it scares me.”

Gerard shook his head. “It will be okay, I’m sure. I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s really all you can do, you know?” he tried, and Patrick nodded.

“Yeah, I’m just… worried.” He smiled sadly. “On the border of sounding like a giant girl, I kinda miss him,” he admitted.

Gerard grinned. “Aww, that’s so sweet!” He sighed. “Lucky,” he said, pouting.

Patrick smirked. “What about you? From what Spencer says, you meet Frank Iero every day for lunch,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Gerard blushed. “Well, there’s a hot guy taking me out all the time, would you say no?!”

Patrick hummed. “Does my husband count as a hot guy?” he joked. “So, what’s going on, are you guys dating?” he asked, and Gerard shrugged.

“I don’t know.” Gerard bit his lip. “He keeps taking me to lunch, and we’re getting to know each other, and-“ he blushed. “There’s always a goodbye kiss,” he admitted, and Patrick smirked. “But we haven’t really talked about what’s going on.”

Patrick smiled. “Well, good luck with that one. I know you’re a pretty ‘single’ dude and it has to be nice to have someone interested.”

Gerard chuckled. “Dude, I’m thirty-four and my one long relationship was a volatile mix of addictions, violence, and depressions. I’m pretty sure this is my one chance to not die alone like Ray will,” he said, and Patrick chuckled.

“Yeah, tell that to the man at the ovens,” he said, and Gerard smirked.

“Oh? Neanderthal Bryar can do more than stare at Ray’s ass?” he asked in a secretive voice, and Patrick shrugged.

“Well, I don’t know, but they said at least four words a piece to each other the other day, so who knows!” he said, laughing at the look on Gerard’s face.

“Maybe Ray won’t die alone after all,” he allowed, then smiled vacantly.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“You know,” Brendon started, leaning in so that Spencer and Ray could hear him without anybody who wasn’t working on the cupcakes display at the front counter hearing. “Pete hasn’t been by in a week,” he said, and Ray rolled his eyes.

“Well yeah, obviously he and Patrick are fighting. I heard Gerard and Patrick talking about how weird it is to feel like someone’s disappeared when they share a bed with you, and I’m sure it’s Pete.”

Spencer snorted. “I knew that marriage wouldn’t last.” Spencer slid another tray into the shelf. “Pete Wentz is a glorified scene kid with serious depression issues and Patrick is twenty-seven going on eighty-four! They’re oil and water, I don’t see how the hell they ever worked.”

“Spencer Smith!” Brendon said sharply. “They’re happy and in love! Don’t say bad things about them! It’s like all the best love stories! Of course they’re oil and water, it wouldn’t be love if it was easy, you butthead,” he said, scoffing as he stood up. He froze, squeaking when he saw Patrick standing there. “Um, hi!” he said quickly.

Patrick smiled, eyeing him curiously. “Who are you guys talking about?” he asked, and Spencer and Ray both paled, spluttering, before Brendon spoke up.

“Ray and Bob!” he said, and Ray turned funny colors, squeaking.

Spencer jumped in. “Yep! They’re oil and water, those two. One’s chatty and happy and the other is quiet and grumpy!”

Patrick eyed Ray. “You and Bob are in love?” he asked skeptically, and Ray nodded quickly.

“Yep! Totally. Insanely happy together!” he reassured, nodding.

Patrick hummed. “Somehow I really doubt that you guys are talking about Ray and Bob. If you’re talking shit about my marriage, why not just say it?” he asked, and Spencer shook his head.

“No! It’s Ray and Bob!”

Patrick nodded. “Alright, so if I go ask Bob how things are going, he’ll actually be aware you guys are in love?” he asked, and Ray nodded brightly.

“Yes!” he said, only to pale as Patrick turned and headed into the kitchen. “Oh shit!” He rushed in and ran to the back where Bob was, despite Patrick’s skeptical looks. “Bob!” he cried, and Bob looked up in alarm, only to look even more alarmed when Ray flew into his arms, clinging to him. “Um, honey, Patrick was wondering- um- wondering about us!” he said, clearly sending Bob a ‘help me!’ look.

Bob cleared his throat and blushed, but gingerly put his hands on Ray’s hips. “Um, we’re… dating?” he tried, and Ray nodded brightly. 

Patrick just looked amused. “You need reassurance that you guys are dating when Brendon says you’re in love?” he asked, and Bob turned red.

“He- he- uh-“

Ray just turned and kissed Bob out of desperation, shutting him up and effectively silencing Patrick’s disbelief. “Huh, I guess you guys are in love then,” he said, and Ray pulled back, beaming at Patrick while Bob stared at Ray in awe. “Well, congratulations!” he said brightly, turning to head to his office.

As soon as the door shut, Ray deflated, hanging off of Bob heavily. “Fuck that was close,” he said.

“Um… I’m so confused,” Bob said weakly, and Ray smiled brightly.

“We were saying thing we shouldn’t, being gossips, and to cover our asses, Brendon threw together that you and I were desperately in love and Patrick didn’t believe it and I had to prove it,” he said.

Bob nodded. “Right… and grabbing me and kissing me was necessary because?” he asked, and Ray smirked.

“It’s proof he needed and I got to kiss a hot guy, win-win dude!” he said, then smiled, hugging Bob. “Thank you for catching on so fast,” he said, pressing a shy kiss to Bob’s cheek before he pulled away and walked back up front with pink spots on his cheeks.

Bob just hummed but didn’t question his luck at getting to kiss the object of his obsessions.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“That was close!” Ray hissed, and Brendon nodded.

“Shit, did you convince him?” he asked, and Ray nodded, blushing.

Spencer snorted. “Still doesn’t change that it’s true. What I said about them,” he said, and Brendon glared, hands on his hips. 

“Spencer Smith, you are such an idiot sometimes. Shut up about them. They’re good people and you shouldn’t gossip,” he said, waving a finger at him.

Spencer smiled. “You look like someone’s mom,” he said, and Brendon glowered. “No, it’s cute!” he said, smiling wider. “I bet when Patrick shouts at his husband he looks like someone’s mom too,” he said, and Brendon snorted.

“Your mom looks like someone’s mom,” he said, and Spencer laughed.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” he joked, smiling. “Really, you are the kind of person I could see married to Pete Wentz, you’re just as insane as he is, but why he married Patrick is beyond me. They’re too opposite. A couple can’t stay happy together forever if they can’t stand each other, you know?” he asked, and Brendon shrugged.

Ray, however, cleared his throat. “Um… guys?” he said and they looked up, only to pale when they spotted Pete Wentz standing just on the other side of them. 

“Mr. Wentz, I’m really sorry,” Spencer started but Pete shook his head.

“I guess everybody thinks that way, huh?” he said softly. “Is Patrick in?” he asked, and Brendon nodded apologetically.

“Look, I really don’t want you to think we all agree with Spencer.” Brendon eyed him. “Really, I can see you guys are great,” he tried, but Pete shook his head.

“Don’t bother, I guess it’s sorta never been a secret we fight more than we’re happy,” he said, nodding to them as he walked into the back.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick looked up when there was a knock and the door opened, only to be shocked when it was Pete. “Pete!” he said, and Pete shut the door, looking nervous. “Is everything okay?” Patrick asked in concern. “Are you alright?”

Gerard coughed obviously. “I’ll go see what the others are up to!” he supplied, all but rushing out.

Patrick chuckled. “Not very subtle, huh?” he asked, smiling tentatively as he stood up. “Are you going to finally speak with me?” he asked, eyeing Pete.

Pete sighed, nodding. “Yeah, I guess we have to talk.”

Patrick rolled his eyes, standing to walk around and sit on the side of the desk. “Pete, I’m sorry for whatever it is I did. I know the parents’ thing was really shitty of me, but I know that I must’ve done something else since then to keep you upset this long,” he said. He reached out and tugged at Pete’s hoodie pockets with an apologetic smile. “I’m really sorry.”

Pete sighed. “Patrick, this isn’t about something like that.” He looked at Patrick in a way that made Patrick’s heart skip a beat. “I think… maybe we need to take a break for a little while.”

Patrick felt his face fall. “What?”

Pete shrugged. “Everybody is speaking doom and gloom about us and maybe they’re right. I don’t want them to be, but maybe… maybe we should just see.” He pulled away, watching the flash of fear on Patrick’s face as he stepped out of his reach. “Maybe we should like…. I don’t know… go a while just staying out of each other’s space.”

Patrick stared. “Pete, you are missing a pretty serious part of this equation, dude,” he said, and Pete sighed. “We are married, Peter. There is no ‘space’!” he cried, clearly becoming angry. “We’re married. Done. End of story. There’s no ‘well maybe we should see if they’re right’- no, it’s too late for that, Pete. We’re sorta as together as it gets! And we can’t stay out of each other’s space because we’re married!” he stressed. “Your space is my space and my space is yours! Down the middle. Equal partnership.” Patrick just shook his head, feeling his stomach bubbling with fear. “And besides what do you mean?” he asked. “We had two years of ‘seeing’ and chances for breaks! That ship has sailed, Peter. We’re beyond ‘well maybe this isn’t working’- No, you don’t get to pull that now!”

Pete shrugged. “People do it all the time. I mean… less than six months isn’t any kind of record, I’m sure.”

Patrick stood up. “No, you’re missing what I’m saying here. _You_ don’t get to pull that,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll be _damned_ if you fucking got me to marry you and then you suddenly want out. After four months no less!” Patrick shook his head. “You fucking made me fall in love with you, you promised me forever, and you let me get used to the fact that this was forever. You do _not_ get the option of fucking leaving me this soon. Or ever for that matter,” Patrick threatened.

Pete shrunk in on himself. “Do you think I want it?” he asked, scoffing. “I love you and I want every fucking day of the rest of my life to be with you, but that isn’t working, is it? Everybody can see it but we’re both too fucking blind to notice! Your own employees were saying we’re oil and water-“

Patrick glowered. “I knew they were lying,” he hissed, then shook his head. “We’re not oil and water, Pete. We work. Maybe some people may not think we do, but you and I know we are _us_. This is not the Pete Show and the Patrick Show anymore, and it hasn’t really been since the fucking minute you told me on my way to the train station that you loved me.”

Pete let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to think about this, Patrick. I’m giving you the out you deserve and you’re pulling up every fucking happy moment we have! What about all the bad days? How many days have you wished you’d never met me?” he demanded, and Patrick sighed.

“Some,” he admitted. 

Pete just shook his head, sniffling. “I’m done, Patrick. Maybe- maybe this isn’t over, maybe it’s just a rough patch, but when you get home, I won’t be there,” he said, turning to walk out without another word.

Patrick just stared at the door with nothing in his blood but the chill of fear.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick refused to break first. He knew Pete was being stupid and he knew he wouldn’t last long before he came around. However, Patrick was still scared and upset every minute that passed that Pete didn’t come crawling back. He was more alarmed than anything when he got home and Pete had taken a lot of his clothes to wherever he had gone. Patrick looked everywhere to see what all Pete had taken and was worried to see that he’d taken enough stuff to last weeks. Patrick hoped Pete wasn’t actually doing this foolishness for weeks. However, in the office, he found the most terrifying thing of all.

Sitting on the desk was a sheet of paper.

_I’m not sure I’ll be needing this again, but if you keep it, I’ll at least know there’s a chance I will._

Sitting beneath it was Pete’s wedding band.

Patrick felt all his blood running cold. Pete had freaked out before, Patrick had fought with him before, and they had even walked out on each other before. Patrick wasn’t sure why, but he had thought marriage had ended the worst of these types of fights. This, however, was something Patrick had never allowed for.

Patrick picked up Pete’s ring and felt tears filling his eyes. Patrick didn’t cry. Patrick refused to cry. He _hated_ how weak crying made him so he refused. But standing with Pete’s wedding band in his hand rather than on Pete’s finger where it belonged, Patrick couldn’t help the tears fighting to break free.

Patrick closed his hand around the ring and rushed to the other side of the desk, grabbing up the phone. He sat down heavily in the chair and dialed the one number he could think of off the top of his head. He sat as it rang, waiting to hear the voice on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

Patrick sniffled. “Mom… I- I think Pete’s left me,” he whispered, finally letting his tears fall as the gravity of the situation landed on him with the weight of the world. “I think he might be serious this time.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick cried, really cried, for the first time since the night he and Pete became engaged as he spoke to his mother. He cried because his heart was breaking at the thought of losing Pete. He cried also because it meant he had failed as a husband. However, she convinced him of one thing: it was his turn. Pete had always fucked up before and always made the big apology gestures. This time it was his turn to prove to Pete that he deserved him. He had to prove to Pete that nothing was enough to make Patrick love Pete less. Patrick had to make it clear that the ‘out’ Pete offered wasn’t what he wanted.

Patrick just had to figure out where Pete was hiding out. He didn’t care if he had to pull the same shit Pete had in order to get him back, he’d stand out in the cold all night too if it meant Pete wouldn’t leave him.

The next morning, Patrick called in to say he wasn’t coming to work and went to Wentz Records to search for Pete, only to hear from his receptionist that he hadn’t come in. He called Frank, he called Mikey, and he even called Pete’s parents. Nobody knew where he was.

Patrick, however, had an idea. He went to the train station, ignoring his driver offering to take him, and hopped on the train to the side of town where the new Clandestine Clothing building was located. He’d never actually been there, only vaguely remembered where it was, but he knew that the staff were already setting up for the opening a week later, as the launch party was in a few nights. If there was anywhere else Pete could be still in the city, it had to be his office there.

He’d spent one night sleeping alone. He didn’t plan on another. 

As he got to the building, he passed the receptionist with a wave and headed for the elevator, remembering that Pete’s office was on the top floor. The lights weren’t on, so he figured nobody else was there. He walked down the hall to the door with an empty secretary’s desk outside and noticed a light under the door. He walked over and knocked lightly, praying for Pete’s voice.

His prayers were answered. “I don’t feel like talking. If it’s the electrician again, just talk to the foreman. Marty or something-“ Patrick opened the door resolutely, walking in. Pete turned from the window, probably ready to shout, only to freeze when he saw Patrick standing there. “What-“

“What am I doing here?” Patrick supplied, crossing his arms to hide how vulnerable he felt standing alone in the middle of the room. The only light was from a lamp on the desk, so that, with the backlight from the window, he couldn’t see Pete’s expression.

“Well, yeah,” Pete said softly. “How did you even know where to look?” he asked curiously.

Patrick snorted. “I didn’t. I just looked everywhere else first,” he offered, walking closer so that he could see Pete’s face. “I’ve never been here. It’s good the train station was on this block or I’d have probably gotten lost.”

Pete’s eyes widened. “You took the _train_?! Patrick, this is a long way from the normal stops, that’s really dangerous-“

“Come on,” Patrick said, rolling his eyes. “You forget I took the train and busses everywhere for twenty-five years, Pete. I’ve yet to be mugged, raped, or shot,” he pointed out.

Pete sighed. “Still, it’s not safe.”

Patrick hummed. “Well, apparently, that seems to not be any of your business, if this is anything to go by,” he said, digging through is pocket and holding up Pete’s wedding ring. He could see Pete’s eyes lock on it. “You know, if I find out you’ve already had divorce papers drawn, I’m going to seriously throw you out that window behind you,” he said, and Pete deflated.

“No, it’s not like that-“

“Oh really? Because the way I see it, you fucking left me, Pete. There’s no wording that makes it different. You _left_ me. I figured I’d give you time to cool off and you would be back after you got over the fact I pissed you off, but instead I found what pretty damn much seemed like a goodbye letter.” Patrick shook his head. “I know I fucked up with forgetting that dinner, but all the other shit you’ve cooked up in your head is all you. You have let other people convince you I want out and I’m setting the record straight,” he said firmly. “You will have to get rid of me personally if you want me gone,” he said, walking closer. He stood just a foot from Pete, looking into his eyes. “If you want to end this, you have to leave me. I’m _not_ leaving you.”

Pete deflated, putting his face in his hands. “Patrick, I don’t want it, I just… I don’t deserve you! You deserve better and everybody else knows it-“

Patrick growled. “Fuck that! Everybody else thinks _you_ deserve a fucking supermodel trophy wife, not a short, fat, ugly husband. And I personally don’t give two shits what other people think.” Patrick reached out and grabbed Pete’s hands, pulling them away from his face. “I want _you_. The end, done, that’s it. I want you and I’ll be damned if I just let you walk out of my life without a fight,” he insisted.

Pete shook his head, turning away. “I’m not worth it-“

Patrick snatched him around, pushing him up against the glass of the window. “You stood outside my mother’s house in below freezing weather for _hours_ to beg me to not leave you,” he said, and Pete sniffled. “What makes you think I’m willing to do less than that?” he asked softly, losing his mask of anger. “I am more determined a man than you even _know_ , Pete Wentz. I swear to God, I’ll make what you did look like nothing if I have to, but I refuse to let you break my heart again,” he said softly, feeling his eyes burning. “You have made me cry twice in one year, Wentz. I swear to God, if I start crying again, I’m going to just have to kill myself in order to save my honor,” he joked bitterly, and Pete looked up, wide eyed.

“Y-you cried?” he asked, and Patrick nodded.

“When I found your wedding ring I thought it was over. I almost expected the letter to be divorce papers,” he admitted weakly. “I tried not to, but I lost it when I thought you were really gone.”

Pete sighed. “You deserve more, Patrick,” Pete whispered, letting his head fall forward.

Patrick closed the distance, hands on Pete’s hips as he pressed his forehead to Pete’s. “Don’t I get to be the judge of that?” he asked in a fragile voice.

Pete looked up and let out a shaky breath. “Patrick,” he gasped out, and Patrick wasted no time diving in for a kiss. Pete let out a muffled gasp as Patrick crowded in, kissing him hard.

Pete kissed back like he was dying and Patrick was his oxygen. “Patrick, fuck, Patrick,” he choked out, kissing him as they stumbled back towards the desk.

Patrick pulled back, clearing his throat around the lump in it as he reached for Pete’s hand and slid his ring back on. He looked into Pete’s eyes and Pete nodded tearfully, throwing Patrick back onto the desk as he kissed him and held him close. “You better still mean forever, Wentz,” Patrick gasped, sinking his fingers into Pete’s hair as Pete kissed his throat.

“Yes, yes, yes, forever and ever,” Pete choked out, reaching up for another kiss. He looked into Patrick’s eyes and smiled shakily. “ _Wentz_.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue:

Patrick, Bob, Ray, and Gerard were all setting up the last of the pastries when Pete came in from the door to the stairs, beaming. “Attention, my friends! I would like to introduce you to three of our models this evening!” he said, making a dramatic flourish at the door.

They all watched as Brendon came out and struck a dramatic pose, positively beaming, and was then followed by less enthusiastic Spencer and Ryan. “I hate you, Wentz. A fucking pox upon your house!” Ryan said with a flat voice and angry glare.

Spencer snorted. “Fuck his house, a pox upon your _balls_ ,” he growled, glaring as he held his arms firmly around his middle. 

Patrick smiled. “Aww, don’t curse my husband, I think you guys look great!” he said encouragingly as he walked over to them.

Brendon snorted, rolling his eyes. “Screw them, I look _hot_!” he said, practically bouncing in place. “Look at my _ass_ , dude!” he said, turning around to wiggle his hips. He looked back at his own butt. “Seriously, it’s so perky and round in these jeans!”

Pete smiled. “Yep, those are the girls versions of the ones Ryan is wearing,” he said with a suppressed laugh.

Patrick snorted. “Hey, girl jeans or not, he’s got a great ass, no denying,” he said, and then looked at Pete. “Besides,” he walked up to him and slid his arms around Pete, sliding his hands into Pete’s back pockets. “I’m pretty sure these are girls’ jeans,” he accused and Pete smiled.

“Well, I don’t exactly have the smallest ass in the world. It’s no Brendon booty, but boys’ jeans aren’t small enough for a short guy with skinny legs that actually has a butt,” he pointed out with a smirk. “You could do with some girl jeans yourself, Captain Sexypants,” he said in a joking accent, leaning in for a kiss.

Patrick chuckled against his lips. “My dick’s too big for girl jeans,” he said, and Pete smirked, giving him a dirty look. Patrick sighed at the look on Pete’s face. “Peter-“

“Your dick’s too big for men’s jeans, dude. Your dick needs its _own_ jeans!” he said, and Patrick blushed and rolled his eyes at Pete’s cackle.

“Why do I put up with you?” Patrick asked in mock exasperation before giving Pete a loving smile.

“We ask that same thing every day,” Gerard said with a solemn hand over his heart, earning laughter from all the guys.

Pete smirked. “Hey, Way? You know Frank’s modeling tonight, too,” he said, and Gerard perked up with interest. “Some jeans and a hoodie.”

Gerard bit his lip. “Tight jeans?” he asked in a faux casual voice.

Ray snorted. “Dude, has he ever _not_ worn tight jeans?” he asked, and Gerard narrowed his eyes.

“Have you?! Your ass and dick both have trouble staying in your pants, they’re so tight!”

Brendon chimed in. “Yep, and Bob likes it!” he said brightly, and everybody turned to see Bob bright red and glaring daggers at Brendon.

Ray just turned slightly pink and ducked his head shyly. “Um, do you really?” he asked in a tiny voice, peeking up through his hair.

Bob made an abortive gesture, but shrugged, grunting his reply. “Kinda.”

Ray smiled slightly, giggling a bit. “Oh.”

Brendon groaned. “For the love of God, Bob has a super giant crush on you, Ray. Bob, Ray thinks you’re super awesome. Neither of you want to die alone and you clearly are interested in each other. Fuck already!” he cried dramatically.

Gerard snorted, cutting in. “Great advice, dude. Now take it yourself and you and Spencer stop fighting your attraction and fuck,” he countered, and Brendon gaped where as Spencer turned pink and glared so hard Pete was pretty sure Gerard was gonna burst into flames.

“I do _NOT_ like Brendon-“ Spencer’s cry was cut off by Ryan scoffing.

“You do too, you try too hard to make us think you hate him to _not_ want him,” he said, and Patrick snickered.

“You really do. You get jealous with other people flirt with him,” he said, and Spencer turned even pinker than he already was.

Brendon just blinked. “But… Spencer hates me,” he said in a confused voice. “He tells me I’m gonna die alone all the time,” he argued softly.

Ryan sighed dramatically. “I’ve been his best friend since we were five. He wants you. Bad.” He looked at Spencer, who was glaring at _him_ now. “Probably hard, fast, and in several positions also,” he added, and Spencer gasped, jaw dropping.

Patrick just laughed, interrupting them. “You guys are all insane,” he said, shaking his head. “Pete, you found me the best and craziest in the world, thank you,” he said firmly, and Pete smiled, shrugging as he kissed him sweetly.

“Anything for you, Lunchbox,” he said, pecking his lips once again. “Tonight is going to be great!” he said excitedly, looking back at the three ‘models’. “Ross, can you promise me you’ll learn a new facial expression for the runway?” he asked, and Ryan flipped him off wordlessly. Pete giggled. “I love that kid,” he said, and Patrick snickered.

Spencer just groaned. “I’m too _fat_ for this,” he said, pulling his arms away from his middle, tugging at the shirt stretched tight across his tummy as it rode up, and then quickly curled his arms around himself again.

Brendon smiled sweetly, and walked over to him. “I think you look amazing, Spencer Smith,” he said in the nicest voice he could manage. “Your tummy is cute,” he said, and Spencer bit his lip.

“You call me fat all the time,” he said, looking self-consciously down at his middle.

Patrick smiled as Brendon shrugged and stood on his toes to peck Spencer’s lips, causing him to stare wide eyed down at Brendon. “Only cause it’s hard to find any insults for someone so beautiful,” he said with wide, earnest eyes before he turned and skipped off towards the runway platform, climbed up on it, and started striking poses.

Gerard looked at Ray, who was smiling brightly. “Awwwww!” they said in unison, leaning closer to start going on and on about how adorable Brendon was.

Patrick just shook his head. “That kid is like a puppy,” he said, and Pete smirked.

“I must train him how to use his puppy eyes then,” he said, grinning evilly.

“No!” everyone cried as they heard his words.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
After everyone had walked the runway, Pete walked out, smiling at all the people who had turned out. The photographers and a few reporters who were up front all looked ready for something to pick apart, but Pete just ignored them, taking the microphone one of the assistants tossed him. “I’d like to thank you all for helping us launch the first Clandestine Clothing line and I hope we’ve got you all interested! I wanted to thank all of our models,” he looked over at the three near the middle of the line of models lined up at the back of the stage. “Even the ones who were coerced into this,” he said, receiving a few titters from the guests. “Clandestine represents a new chapter in expanding Wentz Industries and I owe this and all the future expansions I dream up to someone very important,” he said, and he smiled when he saw Patrick shrinking back slightly.

Pete looked right at Patrick when he started talking. “I had no aspirations further than Wentz Records until I met the most amazing person who has inspired me in every aspect of my life and who continues to inspire me every day. His love of colors is the inspiration behind this line and he is the reason I’m already planning to open at least two more businesses to add to the scope of Wentz Industries. He’s my muse.” Patrick smiled sweetly up at Pete, who bit his lip. “So I want everybody to give it up for the most beautiful, the most amazing, and absolute most important person in the world to me,” Pete smiled almost breathlessly. “The love of my life, my husband, Patrick Wentz,” he said, and Patrick blushed, but waved when everybody turned to clap for him. “You are the only reason I was able to dream up this clothing company and make it a reality, and you are probably the only reason I’m half the man I am today, Patrick.” Pete paused and his smile softened. “Thank you.”

Patrick could tell everybody was looking at him, but he didn’t care how dorky his smile was or how pink his cheeks were, the only thing he cared about was the fact that his husband was the sweetest man alive. He could hear all the ‘aww’s, all the teasing remarks, and even a few snarky replies, but all he cared about was how happy Pete looked.

When Pete had finished talking and chatting with people, he made his way over to Patrick, who was sitting at the bar, sipping his drink. Pete slid in beside him, putting a hand on his waist. “So, what did you think of the line?” he asked, and Patrick smiled at him.

“It was great,” he said, then smiled at Pete with an adoring look. “Your speech wasn’t so bad either,” he said, and Pete ducked his head, shrugging.

“It’s the truth. You’re my muse,” he said, then looked up with a shy smile. “You’re my _everything_.”

Patrick reached up to cup Pete’s face in his hand. “You’re my everything, too, Pete. But you don’t have to thank me for it,” he said softly.

Pete shrugged. “It’s _true_ though. You are so amazing and you give me so much of your time and your attention and I have never done anything to deserve how absolutely amazing you are,” he whispered with a small smile. “You deserve gratitude for putting up with me.”

Patrick shook his head, stroking his thumb along Pete’s cheek. “I don’t want your gratitude,” he said, then leaned in to peck Pete’s lips. “Just your love.”

Pete smiled and pulled Patrick into his arms, holding him close as he pressed their noses together. “Oh Patrick,” he breathed, smiling, though Patrick could only tell by the way his eyes crinkled around the edges, just how he liked it. “You have more than my love, you have my _soul_. You have my _heart_.”

Patrick smiled back, sliding his fingers through Pete’s hair as he tilted his head for a kiss. “You _are_ my heart,” he answered softly before sinking into Pete’s hold for a slow, beautiful, perfect kiss.


End file.
